Harry Potter One-Shots
by RunawayPen
Summary: A collection of drabbles and shorts for Harry Potter. Various themes and pairings.
1. Alliance of Necessity

**Written for the Houses Competition**

 **House** : Slytherin **Category** : Drabble

 **Prompt** : "No, no… keep going… I want to see where this ends up."

 **Word Count** : 456

 **A/N: Canon Divergence – AU – Ron never rejoins Harry & Hermione, and Draco helps the duo escape from Malfoy Manor and helps them finish their quest to destroy Voldemort. **

oOo

Hermione could hear raised voices coming through the closed door to the kitchen of Shell Cottage and she mentally sighed. Not again. She paused, cracking it open so she could hear what the boys were saying, so she could hopefully diffuse things before wands were drawn this time.

"So you're saying it's all MY fault?! What, did I ASK Voldemort to come and kill me as a baby! Send him a little request by owl post to order you to kill Dumbledore last year? Please tell me how you think any of this is MY fault!" Harry's furious tone carried easily.

"Oh excuse me, and here I thought you wanted some honesty. If all you want is for people to bend over and kiss your arse Potter, maybe you should go off and find Weasel-bee. Oh wait that's right, he ran off and left you, and I'm the one that saved your ungrateful hide!" Draco's tone was vicious, using his words and the truth of Ron's betrayal like a blade.

"Well…" Harry paused as Hermione strode into the kitchen, giving both boys a hard glare. "Uh, Hermione…we were just…"

"No, no… keep going… I want to see where this ends up." Sarcasm dripped of each word and both Harry and Draco looked more than a little chastened. "Right, I thought not. Look, I know this isn't ideal and we were all hoping to have defeated You-Know-Who by now, but the fact is we haven't. We need one another. Draco's parents are being held prisoner in their own home by his crazy Aunt, and Harry…neither of us can show our faces in public unless we want to risk getting caught by the Snatchers again. We have to work together, so can you two please stop fighting like a pair of rabid dogs? Please?" She hated the slightly desperate tone in her voice at the end, but they needed Draco's help to do this and they couldn't risk him walking out and betraying them.

Harry sighed and went over to his friend, taking her hand and squeezing it. "You're right, you're always right, Hermione," he admitted. "I'm sorry Malfoy, I was being a right foul git."

Draco's face was hard to read, but he nodded ever so slightly. "I was too, and I concede that Granger's right. We need one another, so we should just focus on the task at hand." He accepted some of the blame, in the interests of their mutual goals.

"Good." She took a deep breath. "Now, let's start working on our plan to break into Gringott's." She gave them both a brilliant smile, inwardly pleased by the slightly horrified expression on Malfoy's face. Hopefully this would distract them from their petty arguments.


	2. Chameleons and Trolls

**Written for the Houses Competition**

 **House** : Slytherin **Category** : Short

 **Prompt** : [First Line] It was days like this where he/she/they really questioned his/her/their life choices.

 **Word Count** : 787

 **A/N: AU – After the Battle of Hogwarts Kingsley cuts a deal with Lucius Malfoy, due to a lack of qualified teachers. Consider it a kind of parole.**

oOo

It was days like this where he really questioned his life choices. It has seemed too good to be true, a full pardon in exchange for agreeing to spend four years teaching Transfigurations to children. Lucius really should have known that anything that sounded too good to be true, usually was. He was currently going blind on the drivel that passed for an essay from one of his more moronic third years. He could finally understand why Severus had always looked ready to hex the little trolls within an inch of their miserable lives. It really was a wonder that Severus hadn't ever actually poisoned them all.

'If I have to spent another three and a half years reading this utter trash, I just might poison myself,' he thought and finished his scathing dissection of the paper before inking a vibrant letter 'T' on the top of the page. He leaned back in his chair and massaged his temples, repressing a groan as a knock sounded at his office door. What now?

"Come in," he called, wondering if it was too late to owl Kingsley and tell him the deal was off. Azkaban seemed like a bloody vacation compared to this. The door opened to admit Hermione Granger, Head Girl, Gryffindor, and one of the new intelligent students currently in attendance at the school. "Miss Granger, what brings you here at this hour?" It had to be nearly curfew.

"I believe this belongs in the Transfiguration terrarium." She opened her hand to display a delicate little chameleon. "A third year from Ravenclaw was playing with it in the corridors. I've taken twenty points, and sent him for detention with Hagrid so he can learn about the needs of various magical creatures."

Lucius nodded towards the jungle terrarium. "Thank you, Miss Granger. A most appropriate punishment." Lucius watched her cross the room and place the tiny creature back into its temperature controlled environment. "May I ask you something, Miss Granger?"

"Of course, Professor," she said respectfully.

"What are your plans after graduation?" In truth, Lucius found her behaviour puzzling. Most of the students regarded him with either fear or loathing, and none of them gave him even a fraction of the respect that this young witch did. She had every reason to hate him, especially considering his sister-in-law had tortured her in his drawing room and he'd done nothing to aid her. Unfortunately, there had been little he could have done without brining Bellatrix's ire down on his family.

"I had thought about joining the Ministry. I feel quite strongly about creature rights, and I'd like to try and change things for them," she said, clearly choosing her answer carefully.

"Might I offer you some advice?" he asked and when she nodded, he gestured for her to take a seat across from him, the beginnings of an idea taking root in his mind. "I've been your teacher for five months now Miss Granger, and I believe you would be wasted at the Ministry. You have a real talent for explaining things to your classmates that struggle, and your first instinct is always to help. I would advise you to consider taking an apprenticeship here under one of the Professors, and think about a possible career in teaching once you've completed your mastery." If he could tempt her into a Transfigurations Mastery, she could be the one going blind on essays for the next two years at least.

"I didn't know Hogwarts offered apprenticeships…" Hermione frowned a little.

"Only rarely, to truly exceptional students," Lucius said. "There are provisions for it within the school guidelines and bylaws, but it's not advertised. You have skill in a variety of areas, Transfigurations being one of them. I am only here for a further three years, and I know that Professor McGonagall would support you furthering your education here." He mentally smiled as he saw her turning the idea over in her head.

"Do you have anything I could read about masteries and apprenticeships?" she asked, clearly unsure, but falling back on her instinct to read everything on a subject.

"You have class last period tomorrow, I'll make certain to have some materials on hand for you," he promised.

"Thank you Professor, I appreciate the advice," Hermione thanked him and stood. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"Please remind Mr. Potter that I do expect his essay to be legible," he said, humour dancing in his eyes.

"I'll remind him. Good evening, Professor Malfoy." She nodded and left the classroom.

Lucius's mental grin transferred to his face as she left. Yes, there were certainly times he questioned his life choices, but tonight…he might have found a way to make this choice somewhat less tedious.


	3. Loss and Acceptance

**Written for the Houses Competition**

 **House** : Slytherin **Category** : Bonus - Headcanon

 **Headcanon:** Severus' Mother dies during his 6th year, and the Dark Lord ends up paying for her funeral, showing Severus the only true kindness he's ever known from adults his whole life, leading him to kill his muggle father and accept the Dark Mark in gratitude to the man who made him feel like he was worth something.

 **Prompt:** [Last line] He/She/They never did know what happened to her/him/it.

 **Word Count** : 1453

 **A/N: Could fit into Canon, but this Headcanon belongs to DaronwyK. Set in March of Snape's 6** **th** **year.**

oOo

It was Friday, and his mother's owl didn't come. Severus felt a knot of dread settle into his gut as the last owls left the Great Hall and there was no letter from his mother. She always wrote on Fridays, every Friday without fail from his very first year, all the way up until now. It was an unspoken agreement between them, a way to know that they were both safe.

"Snape, you ok?" Avery asked, frowning a little.

"No," he whispered. "Can I borrow your owl later?" he asked.

"Sure." Avery watched as Snape stood, leaving his breakfast untouched as he left the Great Hall.

Severus was distracted all day, going through his classes by rote rather than with his usual rapt focus. It was a miracle he made it through the day without incident, but Avery and Mulciber kept him from wandering off on his own. His dormmates could clearly see that something was very wrong, and choose to protect him in a rare move of solidarity. There were whispers that the Dark Lord wanted to recruit the young potions prodigy, and the change in everyone's behaviour towards him since Christmas Hols had been…telling.

He sent a message to Lucius with Avery's owl, asking if the older wizard could spare some time to check on his mother. She never failed to write, and he knew deep down that his father had done something to her. As he watched the barn owl soar off into the dying light, a few tears slipped down his cheek. She had to be alright, she just had to.

o.o.O.o.o

It was a freezing cold day, just over a week later that Severus stood beside the grave of his mother. Lucius had gone to check on her, and had met with Snape in person the next day in Hogsmeade to give him the news. His mother had been in the muggle hospital and Lucius had gotten her transferred to St. Mungos, but the damage was so severe that there had been little they could do other than to make her comfortable. She'd died four days later.

Professor Slughorn had excused him from classes to see to things, since he was now seventeen. He'd been at a loss, trying to figure out how to pay for her stay at St. Mungos and how to afford even a half decent funeral, when the answer had come from an unlikely place. Lucius had insisted that Severus come and stay at the Manor while he worked through things, and that had been when he'd been introduced to the Dark Lord himself. The man had been sympathetic, and told Severus that everything would be seen to, and he wasn't to worry about the expense. Eileen had been a witch from an Ancient and Noble house, and it was the least he could do to help ensure she was laid to rest properly.

The Dark Lord and his followers had come and paid their respects, but they had been the only mourners. All save the Dark Lord had left soon after the casket was lowered, and Severus stood as still as death, bearing witness to his mother's burial. A light drizzle had started, but Severus didn't feel it. He couldn't feel anything at all really.

"I am so very sorry, young Severus." The Dark Lord finally spoke, laying a hand on the teen's bony shoulder.

"She always wrote on Fridays…always," Severus' voice broke, a sob breaking through his stoic façade. His knees buckled and he fell to the cold wet ground beside the fresh grave. His mother was gone, the only person who'd ever loved him. He was aware of the Dark Lord kneeling beside him, stroking his back soothingly. He didn't know how long he wept, only that when he was done strong hands picked him up and turned him away from the grave, helping him to leave it behind.

"Come, there is something I think you need to do." The Dark Lord said, apparating them to a dark street in the industrial town of Cokeworth.

Severus knew where they were. He could smell the stench from the river and he knew this street as well as his own name. The pain had leeched away, leaving only an empty hole in his chest, a hole quickly filling in with cold fury.

"You know what you need to do. He took her from you, Severus. What do we do to filthy muggles that steal from us?" The Dark Lord whispered into Severus' ear, the words silky and alluring.

"We kill them," Severus whispered in response, something deep inside him had always wanted this. How many nights had he lain in bed, listening to his mother's cries and dreamt about killing the piece of filth that had sired him? He drew his wand, gripping the piece of Ebony firmly as he gave license to the twisted fantasies in his head.

"Show me your darkness, Severus. I can feel it pulsing and writhing beneath the control you smother it in. You shouldn't have to hide your genius, your brilliance. Revel in it, yield to it, and make that piece of filth pay for everything he did to you and your mother. Every bruise, every blow, every indignity. Take it out of his worthless hide," the Dark Lord coaxed him. "Do this Severus, and I will give you anything you desire. I can feel your power, and all you need to do is let it free."

Severus simply moved forward, flicking his wand and extinguishing the guttering lights of the street lamps. As darkness fell on Spinner's End, Severus mounted the steps of his decrepit childhood home. Its structure as rotten and twisted as the man who owned it, Tobias Snape. He opened the door, and saw his father lying passed out on the sofa. There was an empty whiskey bottle on the floor and empty food cartons on every surface. His mother had always kept everything neat and clean, slaving away like a House Elf to try and maintain her home. He felt nothing but disgust for the muggle lying there.

He cast a heavy silencing ward on the house, not wanting anyone to disturb his fun. He had a whole lifetime of hate and rage to vent on the disgusting man, and he intended to take his time.

o.o.O.o.o

Severus was on his knees, wiping the vomit from his mouth, when he felt a now familiar hand stroke his hair. He'd cast curse after curse on his father, listened to him beg and plead, but he hadn't stopped until there was nothing recognizable left.

"Evanesco." The Dark Lord vanished the remains of his father, and quickly cleaned the room of evidence. He returned to Severus and helped him to his feet, stroking the teen's cheek. "You've done well Severus, and proven yourself beyond any expectation I could have entertained."

"Thank you, my Lord." He said quietly.

"You will have anything you require, and once you've left Hogwarts…I will arrange for your to sit your mastery. I think we both know that you'll be prepared to pass it without needing a pointless apprenticeship." He grinned at the stunned expression on the teen's face. "Then, once you've done this, I will honour you with my Mark. I can think of none more worthy."

"You honour me, my Lord." Severus managed to say, unused to such praise.

"I reward those that are worthy of it, and those that please me. Continue to please me, Severus, and you will find there are no heights you cannot reach. Horace and Albus are fools to not see your greatness, but their loss will be my gain." The Dark Lord's face was covetous, and pleased with his new acquisition.

Every Friday, from that day until he graduated from Hogwarts, Severus received a letter from the Dark Lord. It wasn't the same as the letters from his mother, but they were just as precious to him. They would discuss magical theory, politics, and sometimes the Dark Lord would even ask his advice about little things. For a boy who'd never known much kindness or recognition, this was a lifeline that he clung to desperately. He knew what the wizard was, but he couldn't find himself able to care. For the first time in his life, Severus was important. The night after his graduation, he knelt and accepted his mark with pride.

In the years that followed, people in Cokeworth often talked in hushed whispers about the sudden disappearance of Tobias Snape after his wife's death. Many suspected that his numerous crimes had caught up with him, but it was all just baseless speculation. They never did know what happened to him.


	4. Being Granger

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House.

Category: Short Prompt: [First Line] It was just for one night after all. Word Count: 613

AU After the Final Battle. In this fic Hermione and Draco are in a relationship in the year following Voldemort's defeat.

oOo

It was just for one night after all. Pansy tilted the potions vial in her hand, the greyish liquid sloshing around inside it. One night where she could see what it was like to the darling of the wizarding world. Just a single night to have Draco look at her with true affection in his eyes, and let her have a taste of what should always have been hers. After the war, Draco had walked away from her entirely, refusing to even look at her. She'd always loved him and known that he was her ticket to higher society. While the Parkinsons were Sacred Twenty-Eight, they were not exactly swimming in galleons. A good marriage had been necessary, and she'd spent six years digging her claws into Draco, only to lose him to a bushy-haired, buck-toothed, know-it-all with less fashion sense in her whole body than Pansy had in a single finger. It wasn't fair!

Pansy took a deep breath, added the curly hair to the vial, and then drank the vile concoction down. The taste reminded her of the smell of musty old books, and she gagged as she struggled to swallow it all. Theo had promised her this version of polyjuice would last a full nine hours. Long enough to walk a proverbial mile in Granger's shoes.

A ripple started in her gut and she lurched forward, grabbing the edge of the vanity as the transformation took hold. Her short black bob lengthened, curled, and became uncontrollable chestnut curls. Her body shifted into a new shape and when the sensations finally settled, Pansy opened her eyes to stare at the mirror. It was Hermione Granger's face starting back at her and she had to fight the urge to sneer. What Draco saw in her, she'd never know.

She flicked her wand over the dress and fitted it to the bookworm's slender figure. It was a very strange sensation, wearing someone else's skin. Quickly, Pansy checked the closet where Granger was currently tucked away. What a shame that she was going to miss receiving her Order of Merlin tonight. A dark smile flitted across her lips as she closed and warded the door. Someone would find her tomorrow, eventually.

Pansy finished putting the finishing touches on her make-up, idly thinking that Granger really should thank her. The mudblood had never looked this good, and the photo ops tonight would be epic. Blotting her lipstick and casting a charm over everything to keep it fresh and crisp all night, Pansy winked at herself in the mirror before heading out of the Prefect's bathroom.

Everyone loved to call her stupid, but Pansy was a lot smarter than she let on. Wizards didn't like smart-mouthed witches, or at least that was what her mother had always said. She played the simpering girl so well, that everyone thought that was all she was. Well, tonight she was going to have a little bit of fun at the clever mudblood's expense, and take plenty of enjoyment from robbing her of tonight.

Pansy's heels rang off the stone as she made her way down to the Entrance Hall, joining the other students that were going to the Ministry Gala tonight. Draco came forward to meet her, offering her his hand with a smile that would melt any witch into a puddle at his feet. She didn't blame Granger of course, but she did blame the direly handsome blonde pressing a kiss to her hand.

"You look beautiful tonight," Draco said softly.

"I know," Pansy replied, giving him a flirty little smile. Oh, she was going to have so much fun tonight. It really was a pity it was just for tonight, but one night would have to be enough.


	5. Knowing and Understanding

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House

Category: Themed [Understanding]

Prompt: White

Word Count: 2476

AU - Voldemort's possession of Professor Quirrell, in Philosopher's Stone, was more complete than in Canon. He approached teaching DADA with actual skill and zeal, taking advantage of a chance to do something he'd wanted to do even as a young man. Set in early October, 1991.

oOo

Tom sat on the edge of his desk, looking out over the faces of the first year students. It was a heady feeling to see all those eyes turned up towards him, eager for the knowledge he had to impart. They were crisp, white sheets of parchment, ready to be written upon by an experienced hand. The temptation to truly teach them, to open their young minds to the endless possibilities of magic was undeniably there. Perhaps he could, at least a little. Albus had been so utterly accommodating in allowing him into the castle. He had no doubts the old goat suspected that his poor former Muggle Studies Professor had returned from Albania somewhat…altered, but so far he had not approached him about it.

"Now, Dark Creatures will be covered more completely in your third year, but we will touch on them briefly. Who can tell me what herb is combined with powdered silver to seal a werewolf bite?" He asked the combined Gryffindor/Hufflepuff class. He resisted the urge to smile as a familiar hand shot up into the air, brandishing a perfectly trimmed white quill like a banner. "Yes, Miss Granger." He nodded to her, unsurprised that she was the only one to offer up her answer.

"Sir, a mixture of powdered silver and dittany can be applied to a fresh werewolf bite to stem the bleeding and allow the victim to survive. However, this does not prevent infection and many would rather die than live on as a werewolf." The girl offered, the snowy white flicking between her fingers as she spoke. A nervous tick Tom had noted more than once with her.

"Correct, Miss Granger. Five points to Gryffindor." Tom found the girl to be something of an anomaly, a mudblood by all appearances, yet she had a frightening grasp of magic. It reminded him uncomfortably of himself in his first year, right down to way her year mates ostracized her because of her talent and intellect.

He got up and moved into his lecture on werewolf bites, and segued into a section on Gargoyles and Hags. "Now, please review chapters twelve and thirteen before next class as there will be a short quiz before we begin a practical session on casting _Periculum_ and _Verdimillius._ Anyone that fails the quiz will not be permitted to take part in the practical session." He reminded them. "Class dismissed."

Tom went to his desk to organize things for his sixth year class, but kept an eye on the students filing out. A stifled cry of pain caught his attention and he moved to see Miss Granger picking herself up off the floor as a couple of Gryffindor boys laughed at her and hurried out the door. Her book bag had spilled its contents all over the floor, her ink bottle broken and spoiling her notes and parchment. The black ink had seeped over her stock of white swan quills, and parchment. He strode over.

"Are you hurt?" he asked the child.

"Not really, sir," she said quietly, trying to pick up her notes. Black ink smeared over her pale skin.

"Allow me." He said and flicked his wand at the mess, vanishing the ink, and ordering everything back into the bag neatly. "There, no real harm done." He said, spotted a spot of blood where she'd skinned her knee on the stone, red vibrant against the white of her uniform socks.

"Thank you, Professor." Hermione said, the girl clearly fighting back tears.

"You have History of Magic next correct?" Tom asked and at her nod, he mentally sighed. "Come with me, child." He gestured for her to come to his office, above the classroom. "I have some wound salve in my office, and if you promise to be quiet you may stay there, while I teach my sixth year class. Afterwards we'll have a little talk mm?" he offered, unsure why he cared about the girl, but he did and his instincts were rarely wrong.

"I'll be very quiet, Sir," she promised and followed her Professor up to his office. He gestured for her to sit on the chair in front of his desk and he pulled a book from his shelf, and grabbed a small jar of salve from the desk drawer. "This is the text the sixth years are using, I am sure you will enjoy reading along with the lesson." He offered it to her and then knelt down, gently daubing the salve over the scrape. A quick _scourgify_ returned her sock to its pristine state of white.

The girl winced, but didn't move away from the sting of the medication and he felt a little bit more respect for her. She knew how to tolerate unpleasantness for her own good. Perhaps he could teach her a few handy spells to get even with the bullies in her house, nothing like the ones he'd used in his own school years…but something to make her point clear. He could hear the sounds of footsteps down in the classroom.

"Now, remember what I said. Don't make me regret allowing you to remain here," Tom warned and stood, back out to meet the class.

oOo

Hermione sat and listened to her Professor lecture the sixth years about Inferi, and it was riveting. She easily found the chapter in the book that he had left her and followed along, drinking in the knowledge. The illustrations were done with black ink, over slightly glossy white paper, and the horrific creatures stood out in bold relief. She'd only been at Hogwarts for a month, and she'd never felt so alone. While she'd never really had any friends, at least she'd had her parents to talk to and reassure her. Here she was living in a dorm with four other girls, and none of them would even speak to her civilly.

The boys would shove her in the halls, and Lavender was always teasing her about her hair and her teeth. It just wasn't fair. She couldn't help that her hair was frizzy, or that her teeth were too big for her mouth. She hated when they sneered and called her a know-it-all, just for reading her school books. If you knew the answer, you were supposed to put your hand up! Her teachers in primary had always told her that it was wrong to pretend to be stupid in order to make friends.

When the lecture finished, she listened to the question and answer session at the end, fascinated by the way he had the students debating the merits of using Inferi, against the obvious dangers. It was an interesting question. Could something inherently horrible be put to a good use? She was mulling that over herself, when he came up to the office, putting a stack of essays onto his desk.

"Did you find the lecture interesting?" he asked.

"It was, thank you for letting me stay and listen." She smiled.

"You're welcome, I had an inkling you might be able to follow it better than any of your year mates." He pulled his desk chair around to sit across from her, and called for a House Elf and ordered a bit of lunch for them both. "Now, how are things going in your House, Miss Granger?" He asked seriously.

Hermione dropped her eyes down to her lap and fought the urge to fidget, it was unforgivably rude. "Well enough…I guess, Sir," she answered reluctantly.

"Compared to what?" He asked quietly.

"I don't think they meant to shove me quite that hard, and normally they just ignore me." Hermione said, not wanting to cry. She shut her eyes for a moment, little white bursts of light dancing behind her closed eyelids.

"So, not that well at all." He said, handing her a mug of chocolate, topped with a mountain of creamy white whipped-cream, as a tray of food appeared. "You are uncommonly gifted, Miss Granger. It can be hard to fit in with others when you are so far ahead of them in both knowledge, and maturity. I imagine your parents treated you more like a small adult than a child?"

"A little, I think." She sighed. "I don't fit in, I thought that I could, but I was wrong." Her voice was bitter, and it was clear she hated admitting defeat.

"You weren't supposed to be in Gryffindor, were you?" It wasn't really phrased as a question.

Hermione shook her head. "No."

"I'll tell you a secret, when I was a first year…I was a lot like you. I didn't have any friends at first, and my house treated me like a leper. Books were my solace, and my refuge. In books I learned to protect myself from those that thought to push me around, or try and make me feel like less than they were." He gestured to his bookshelf and a slender volume floated over to him. "Consider this a gift, and I hope you make good use of it."

Hermione plucked the book out of the air, and looked at the title written in gold on the soft white leather. Getting Even: Creative Spells to Even the Score. Hesitantly, she opened the book and felt a little thrill as seeing some of the spells there. She didn't recognize any of them, but her hand fairly itched to try them. "But, won't I get in trouble?" she asked, biting her bottom lip.

Tom smirked, a dark expression crossing his borrowed face. "Only if you get caught." He winked at her. "Don't pander to lesser minds, child, and never allow anyone to push you around," he told her.

"Why do they hate me so much?" She asked very quietly, sipping her hot chocolate. Some of the whipped cream gave her a little white mustache.

He sighed softly. "Children can be cruel, particularly when they think their victim is weak. You're muggle-born, and most children from wizarding families have been raised to think they are better than you, and should be more skilled than you. When you show them up in class, it makes them angry, so they lash out. Try and use your knowledge more selectively, pour your intellect into your essays and tests. Don't waste your time trying to help the others, they won't appreciate it and frankly they don't deserve your assistance. Answer questions only when asked directly. Your teachers will appreciate your restraint, and like you all the more for it, and the other students will be forced to actually think for once," he advised her. "Start doing that, and you'll find things will start to change for you."

Hermione listened to what he was telling her, and found that it made sense even though it went against everything she'd learned in primary. Muggle primary, she reminded herself bitterly. She was thinking and acting like a muggle, not a witch. It was why they were marking her out as different, as a target. Acting like she had made her stand out like a white spot on a black background.

"I think I understand, at least a little," she said, a bit of a frown on her face.

"Good. Now, have something to eat and then I'll write you a pass for History of Magic. My door is always open to you Miss Granger. I advise you to make use of it when you need to." Tom had a feeling about the girl, that she was something more than she seemed. There was something familiar about her, and her magic.

"I will, Professor Quirrell," she promised and obediently helped herself to a sandwich, trying to digest everything he'd told her. Perhaps if she followed his advice, and tried to adjust how she approached things, eventually she'd be able to convince her housemates that she truly belonged there. A part of her wished that she'd listened to the Sorting Hat, but she'd made her choice and now she'd have to find a way to make it work for her.

oOo

Tom didn't need to be a master Legilimens to know what the girl was thinking. He was pleased that she'd both listened to his words, and understood what he'd been subtly trying to tell her. To survive here, she needed to start thinking like a witch. It had been a hard adjustment for him as well, from the regimented life of the Orphanage to the relative freedom here at Hogwarts. Worse had been learning how to leverage his threat in a place where everyone else had similar abilities to his. He'd worked hard to stay ahead of everyone, trying to satisfy his insatiable need to know everything. He saw shadows of that in this girl, in the way her eyes lit up when learning something new.

Her similarities to him led to a deep understanding of the young witch. She'd be formidable one day, a powerful player for whichever side was clever enough to court her early. He would have to find a way to ensure that it was his ranks that attracted her, she could not fall to Albus' side. There were challenges of course, her background was lamentable, but her talent…oh her talent made up for it in spades. This was one blank, white page that he fully intended to fill in with his own brand of darkness.

As she finished her lunch, he went and penned a short note excusing her absence, and claiming she had helped him organize the Defence cupboard. He handed it over, a mischievous glint in his eyes as she read it.

"So, I think that should be ten points to Gryffindor, for helping a Professor." He awarded her phantom points to cover the true nature of her visit to his office. Tom honestly wondered if Minerva had even noticed how badly her little lion was struggling. He doubted it, and it made this girl a much easier target for his particular brand of corruption.

"Thank you, Sir." She tucked the note into her bag. "I appreciate all the advice."

"You are most welcome. Out of curiosity, which House did the Hat want to place you in?" He asked, tone purposefully disinterested.

"Slytherin, or Ravenclaw if I didn't want the trouble." She said and shrugged, slipping out of his office with a bounce in her step.

Alone in the privacy of his office, Tom Riddle, the most feared Dark Wizard since Grindelwald, laughed at the thought of the tiny muggle-born in the House of his great ancestor. That would certainly have set Hogwarts on his head, and he wondered if there might be a way to pull it off somehow. Regardless of what House she was currently in, knowing she was a little snake in lion's clothing deepened appreciation of the young witch. Yes, she would be recruited…he just needed to divine a way to do it.


	6. Temptations

**A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House.**

 **Category: Drabble**

 **Prompt: Professor Moody/Barty Crouch Jr.**

 **Word Count: 416**

oOo

Polyjuice truly tasted vile, or perhaps it was merely the hairs from that disgusting one-legged, old fool he had imprisoned in the trunk. He saluted the closed trunk with his flask and took another drag. Teaching had proven to be a strangely enjoyable task, and while it had been tempting to teach the little lambs nothing, he found as the months dragged on that he couldn't help but truly educate them. Watching innocent little children mastering things darker than they'd ever dream of alone, was addictive.

A knock startled him from his musing, and he lumbered across the office and wrenched the door open, looking down at the unassuming form of Potter's pet mudblood. The Granger girl was an enigma to him, talented, intelligent, and with a vicious little streak that he couldn't help but approve of. She didn't fit the usual mould of her house, nor her blood status.

"Granger?" he said brusquely.

"Professor Moody, I-I was wondering if I could ask you something, Sir. It's about the Imperius curse," she said, biting her bottom lip nervously.

"Come in, and ask your questions then girl." He opened the door wider and invited her inside. He watched the fifteen year old girl walk over to sit primly in the seat in front of his desk. "Well?"

"Sir, I was wondering if you could help me learn to throw it off. If Harry can do it, I should be able to as well." She frowned.

"Unless you possess the natural ability, you can only learn to resist the curse by repeated exposure. You understand that you're asking me to use an Unforgiveable curse on you, likely many times over?" Barty raised an eyebrow at her.

"Please Sir, it's important."

Inwardly Barty felt a dark thrill, it was too tempting to refuse. Using any of the Unforgiveables was an intense high, and having this girl offer herself up to his mercy was just too perfect. "Very well. You will come here each Friday evening, after dinner…and we will work on teaching you to resist the Imperius Curse. You will not tell anyone about these session, or the minute you do, the lessons will end. Is that clear, girl?" He growled at her, impersonating Moody perfectly.

"I understand completely, Sir. Thank you." She smiled then.

"Yes, yes…off you go, Granger. Friday night after dinner, do not be late," he dismissed her. Once she left, a wicked smile lit his features. This was going to be so much fun.


	7. Hogwarts' Secrets

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House.

Theme: Fall or Autumn

Prompts: Mrs. Norris & Hogwarts Kitchens

Word Count: 482

A/N: Set a few years after Argus starts working at Hogwarts, timeframe indeterminate

oOo

"What have we here, my sweet?" Argus asked his cat, smiling down at the creature winding herself between his legs. There wasn't much that made him smile, but she never failed to brighten his moods. Even on a wet, muddy, October day like this one.

The mangy tabby trotted up the corridor ahead of her master, pawing at a section of wall. There was a crack, a door, where there shouldn't have been one.

Argus frowned a bit and saw a handle, sticking out of a painting of some fruit. He pressed on the door and blinked. In all the years he'd lived at Hogwarts as the caretaker, he'd never really given a lot of thought to where the kitchens were. If you wanted food, the elves would bring it to you quickly enough. But here was the answer to that long unasked question. The elves were scurrying around and one of them came over and gestured for him to sit down.

In a bit of a daze, he found himself sitting at the table. Mrs. Norris hopped up onto his lap, purring away like a little lawn mower as the elves brought over tea and cakes for him, and a saucer of milk for his cat.

"You're such a clever madam, aren't you now?" She was such a smart cat. He might be a squib, but his familiar was far superior to any he'd seen come through this castle. They connected at a level that was a kind of magic all on its own. He chuckled a little as she head-butted his chest before returning to her saucer of milk.

He took a sip of the tea and smiled. It was just the way he always liked it, with honey and just a touch of milk. It was strange that he'd never seen the door before, he'd been working here for nearly seven years now and he'd been up and down this passage way countless times. He swore that at this time of year, the Hufflepuffs tracked more mud through this castle than all the other Houses combined. They were the reason he loathed the fall, if he was honest. Ah well, no use dwelling on it, Hogwarts wasn't just some dead thing, it had a life and intelligence of its own; he'd seen it from time to time. Perhaps, the castle felt he deserved to know about the entrance to the Kitchens, a reward for taking care of it.

Reaching a hand out, he pressed his palm against the stone wall and closed his eyes a moment. He could feel the tiniest hum under his hand, the magic of Hogwarts itself.

"Thank you for sharing your secret with me," he whispered quietly. Argus could almost swear he felt a slight change in the rhythm of the magic, an acknowledgement of his thanks. Almost like the castle was saying 'You're welcome.'


	8. Tears and Chocolate

Written for the Houses Competition, for Slytherin House

Category: Drabble

Prompt: Chocolate Egg

Word Count: 221

A/N: Set during GoF, very slight canon deviation.

oOo

It was just a stupid chocolate egg; what did it matter if it was miniscule? Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes as she left the Great Hall, a rage unlike anything she'd ever experienced filling her up from the soles of her feet to the very ends of her hair. She walked out the front doors of the castle, not even hearing Harry call her name as she stormed off towards the Black Lake.

She hurled the tiny chocolate egg into the water, unable to help the sob that passed her lips. It just wasn't fair! Rita Skeeter was printing lies and everyone believed them, even Mrs. Weasley thought she was some sort of…tart. Furiously she scrubbed away her tears. She'd been holding everything together until this morning. Harry and Ron had gotten chocolate eggs from Molly too, only theirs were the size of ruddy dragon eggs. It would have been one thing if she'd just neglected to send Hermione anything, but purposefully sending her an egg the size of a chicken egg, when they boys had gotten such massive ones, hurt worse than even that letter full of undiluted bubotuber pus had. Only there was no magical salve that could sooth this particular hurt.

Skeeter was vile, but to Hermione, right at this moment, Molly Weasley was even worse.


	9. Drinking to the Dead

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House

Category: Short

Prompt: Firewhiskey

Word Count: 679

A/N: AU set on Halloween, 1991.

oOo

There were a few things that Rosmerta knew without question: water was wet, the sun always came up, and every Halloween Severus Snape would come in. He always slipped in just before closing and paid her three galleons to let him stay until dawn. There was no great mystery to why that was the night he'd darken her door, poor dear. Everyone had their demons after all.

She was wiping down the counter when the door opened, his lean figure filling the doorway. Not a word passed her lips as he limped to the bar, sitting in his usual place. Silently, she placed two glasses on the bar top and pulled her best bottle of Ogden's Old firewhiskey off the top shelf. She poured him three fingers in one glass and a scant shot in the other, one for him and one for the ghost he was drinking to.

Going about her business, Rosmerta shooed her other patrons out and closed up, locking the doors and flipping the chairs up onto the table tops. All the while, she kept an eye on the man at the bar. He'd lift his glass up to the light to examine the colour and then hold it to his lips for a long moment before choking back a swallow. It was the only time of year she ever saw him take so much as a nip of alcohol, and even as a student she'd never worried about him trying to sneak anything stronger than butterbeer. She'd tended bar enough years to know the signs, someone in his life had liked their drink just a bit too much and he was afraid of going down that same path.

"He has her eyes…" He spoke quietly, breaking his normal stony silence.

Rosmerta headed over to the bar and sat down beside him. "The day had to come eventually," she said.

"It's so hard to look at him, without seeing her." He looked down into the amber liquid in his glass.

"Have you told him you knew his mother?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Rosmerta was probably one of the few who remembered just how close this man had been to the now famous Lily Potter, Lily Evans as she'd been known then. Those two had been thick as thieves. She'd heard of their falling out just around their OWLs and remembered thinking it a shame. Even back then, it had been clear that Severus thought Lily had hung the moon.

"No…" He shook his head.

"You should tell him," Rosmerta said firmly. "I imagine he has people knocking down the door to regale him with stories about his father, but perhaps its better he know more about his mum. She was always worth ten of Potter." A soft smile crossed her lips as she remembered Lily bringing her a half-starved stray kitten one snowy Hogsmead weekend, begging her to take it in so it wouldn't freeze in a snow bank. That cat had been the best mouser she'd ever had, the skinny old thing was still living with her likely curled up on the hearth. Of course, Rosmerta had always had a soft spot for strays, both animals and people.

"The Headmaster thinks it unwise…" he protested, though the tiniest smile crossed his lips at her words.

"Hang Albus, what has he to do with it anyway?" She winked at him and hoped that he might take her advice. It would be a first, but stranger things had happened. "Come, you're not drinking alone tonight and I refuse to sit here and get pissed on one of these hard barstools." She grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey and stood. "We'll sit in my parlour, it's more comfortable anyway."

Severus looked like he was going to protest, but nodded after a moment of clear internal debate. "If you insist."

"I do." At least in her parlour, if he passed out she could cover him with a blanket and stuff a pillow under his head. A much better option than leaving him passed out over her bar.


	10. The Price to be Paid

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House.

Category: Themed.

Prompt: [Speech] "Let's find out exactly how deep your betrayal runs."

Word Count: 3284

AU – Diverges from Canon after Order of the Pheonix, with some messing around with Tom Riddle's Timeline.

oOo

Severus raced into the Infirmary, shouting for Poppy. In his arms was a slender figure completely wrapped in a black cloak. A spill of black hair was the only part of his cargo visible, until he laid her down on the narrow hospital cot. A flick of his wand conjured a patronus and the spectral doe raced off to find the Headmaster.

"Goodness Severus? Who is this and what's happened?" Poppy Pomfrey demanded as she furiously cast a diagnostic spell over the young woman lying on the bed.

Severus shook his head. "I have no idea who she is. I found her trapped in some strange sort of spell deep in the Dark Forest." He'd been gathering potions ingredients when he'd felt the shimmer of an old ward, a powerful one at that. Curiosity piqued, he'd dismantled the ward with great difficulty and pressed onwards. There, in a tangle of undergrowth, had been a pillar of amber and trapped inside it had been this woman. She'd been wrapped in only a bedsheet, a hand held up to try and ward off an attack. "I managed to cancel the spell, but she went into convulsions. I got her here as quickly as I could," Severus finished reporting.

"I need an invigorating draught, and a magical replenisher. Her levels are dangerously low," Poppy said, reading the complicated charm with ease and adjusting her stabilizing spells as on the fly.

A normal day for the Hogwarts Medi-witch was healing broken bones and dispensing pepper-up potions to combat snotty noses, but every now and then she'd be handed something that truly tested her skills. As Severus returned with the potions, he was reminded just how truly skilled Poppy was. She'd certainly put his sorry form back together more than once over the years. The witch lying on the bed was unnaturally pale and her breathing came in ragged, shallow gasps. It was clear that she was fighting to stay alive, even as her body tried to give out on her.

He drew his wand and assisted the healer by infusing the potions directly into the woman's bloodstream, knowing instinctively that time was of the essence and that Poppy couldn't spare the concentration to do it herself just now. She was too busy trying to keep the woman from expiring. Just as they were making some headway, the doors to the Infirmary opened and admitted Albus. Minerva was walking quickly behind him and the Head of Gryffindor gasped in shock at the sight that awaited them.

"What manner of magic is this?" Minerva whispered, looking as if she'd seen a specter.

"Something very dark, Minerva. That much is certain," Albus said quietly, his pale blue eyes fixed on the witch.

"That's all I can do for now. The rest is up to her, I'm afraid," Poppy pronounced and sat down in a chair looking rather exhausted.

"You recognize her," Severus said shrewdly.

"Her name is Isolda Lafaye. She was a student several years ahead of Minerva and went missing in the late 1940's, shortly after she graduated. No one ever knew what became of her," Albus said quietly, a look of great trepidation on his face.

"She looks barely older than twenty." Poppy looked stunned.

"Whatever was done to her seems to have preserved her in a kind of suspended animation. I will need to view your memory of finding her, Severus. Poppy, I'm to be told the moment she awakens and it might not be a horrible idea to place a restraining spell on her bed," Albus instructed.

"You believe she could be dangerous?" The medi-witch frowned.

"She kept very dangerous company before her disappearance. It would not be a terrible leap to assume the worst," Albus said simply and turned, walking swiftly out of the hospital wing.

Severus' frown deepened and he stood, pausing only to reach out and turn over her left forearm. He wasn't entirely sure what had prompted the move, but finding the skin smooth and unblemished did not diminish the uneasy feeling in his belly. There was something about this with that had the Headmaster spooked, or at least 'unsettled'. Whatever that reason was, it likely did not bode well for any of them.

oOo

It was nearly two days later when Albus was summoned to the Infirmary again. A great chill settled into his bones as he came to stand at the foot of the bed and full weight of Miss Lafaye's blue gaze settled onto him. The former Ravenclaw prefect looked pale and fragile in the bed, tucked into crisp white linens, but once you met her eyes there was no question about her mental toughness.

"Professor Dumbledore," her voice was slightly hoarse.

"Miss Lafaye, it's good to see you awake. I'm afraid your discovery has raised a great many questions," Albus said.

"We both know you're hardly pleased to see me alive, Professor," she said quietly, a wry smile settling onto her face. "Fortunately for you, Tom made a fatal error."

"Oh? Is Tom the one who did this to you?" He feigned surprised.

"He's the only one I'd ever have trusted to get so close to me, as you are well aware," she paused, closing her eyes and swallowing deeply. "He betrayed me, and because of that…I will help you destroy him."

"How do you know that he's not already dead? You've been imprisoned for nearly fifty years." Albus tried to appear reasonable.

"Because he's made himself exceedingly difficult to kill and if he were truly dead, I'd have been released from the Ambreas Charm long ago. Such a spell is tied to the intrinsic life-force of the caster. So long as they endure, in any state, the charm will hold," she explained it as if to a child, being insulting on purpose.

"The Ambreas Charm has been lost for nearly a millennia." Albus narrowed his eyes. The girl had always liked to needle and bait, even as a student she'd always been firmly convinced that her own opinions were inherently superior to her instructors.

"Did you think that Tom and I left Britain for a merry vacation in the south of Spain?" She snorted. "Between the two of us, there was no limit to the secrets we could unlock. We delved deep into arts long forgotten, pushing the boundaries of magic until we found the edges. The Ambreas Charm wasn't lost, merely misplaced. I found it in a half-destroyed Armenian Archive, along with other things." Her smile turned predatory. "I helped him craft and weave magic darker than pitch and when he'd wrung every last ounce of usefulness out of me, he thought that he could simply cast me aside. He thought wrong."

"If that is true why should we trust you now?" Albus knew better than most how addictive it could be to delve into obscure magic with a partner of similar skill. Lines blurred and morals were quickly washed away as you chased the next thrill. Once his own heart had been twisted and tainted by such a partnership, and he could see the same stain on the soul of this witch.

"Because he betrayed me, and I would burn the whole world down to pay him back in kind. I also know how to end him, once and for all. Something you clearly don't. So release this silly restraint spell and summon Abraxas Malfoy," she commanded.

"Abraxas Malfoy is dead." Came a voice from just behind Albus. The smooth, silky tones of Severus' voice delivered the news that clearly cut this witch to the bone, shattering her façade of arrogance and strength.

"Dead?" she whispered, tears shining in her eyes. "How?"

"Dragon Pox, about six years ago," Severus said, coming to stand beside the Headmaster.

"Did he have any children?" Isolda swallowed thickly, trying to cling to her composure.

"A son, Lucius," Severus said.

"Then summon him and tell him to bring one of his father's portraits," she said. "Undo this ridiculous spell, right now." She gave the Headmaster a highly unfriendly look.

Albus inclined his head and undid the spell, unsurprised when she got off the bed and walked unsteadily to the bathroom. The door shut firmly behind her, leaving him alone with Severus.

"She seems rather…distrustful of you, Headmaster," Severus observed in an all too casual voice.

"I'm afraid my attitudes towards a young Lord Voldemort and his companions while here at school may have bred some…contempt," he admitted. "Perhaps you'd be best to speak with her Severus, I will summon Lord Malfoy and request he bring his father's portrait with him. Find out what she knows, and if she is truly willing to help us."

Severus nodded. "As you wish, Headmaster."

oOo

Dead. The words had been like a dagger to the gut, a slow agonizing wound that would take days to kill her. Tom's betrayal was an easier pill to swallow; she'd always known what he was after all. The loss of 'Brax though, he'd been their third and the pivotal piece that balanced their highly dysfunctional little family. Undoing all of Tom's ills would be extremely difficult without him, but at least he had a son that could conceivably be used as a surrogate.

It was if she'd fallen asleep and woken to a world she didn't recognize. Caught up in the intoxicating rush of magic and exploration, it had been easy to turn a blind eye to the things Tom was doing and the only possible applications for the magic she'd created for him. Isolda almost didn't want to know how much blood was on her hands by proxy, but she needed to know. Knowledge was necessary, because without it she'd be stumbling around in the dark. Against a man like Tom, you needed every weapon you could possibly find. She was at a wretched disadvantage as it was. For nearly fifty years, she'd been suspended in that pillar of amber while he'd been free in the world. Her body had been frozen at 19 years old, just at the beginnings of her magical maturity and only scratching the surface of her capabilities. He was a mature wizard, honed and refined into a weapon that clearly terrified the wizarding world. This would be a fight that could claim her life, but there was no other choice. If he discovered she was free, he'd kill her anyway. She knew too much.

Reluctantly, she left the relative privacy of the bathroom and found that Albus had left the other wizard to deal with her. Coward. She nodded to the sallow-faced wizard, something familiar about his features tickling at the back of her brain.

"You're the one that freed me," she said, remembering vaguely seeing his face in the forest before everything had gone black.

He inclined his head. "I'm Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin and the resident Potions Master."

"Thank you for the rescue," she said and sat back down on the bed.

"You mentioned you know a way to undo his magic, what did you mean?" Severus summoned a chair and sat down.

"How comfortable are you with Arithmancy theory?" she asked, running a hand through her hair.

"Relatively comfortable," he said.

"Tom has always been fascinated by numbers of power and ways of using them to increase the magical energy in spells and rituals. Tom, Abraxas, and I were a triumvirate; we would use the power of three to harness the power we'd summon. Because we were the base of power behind so much of Tom's magic, by resurrecting the triumvirate in proxy we can undo much of his evil. That will destabilize him and render him vulnerable for the final blow, if he even survives the ritual," she said softly. "It would have been easier with 'Brax, but I can use his son as his proxy."

"You'd also need a Proxy for the Dark Lord and he has no children," he said softly.

"Ah…but he has placed his magic inside the bodies of his followers." She reached over and ghosted her fingers over Severus' left sleeve. "That piece of him, will be his undoing. I hope the irony is enough to choke him to death."

"You want my help?" he said.

"I certainly can't use Dumbledore." She rolled her eyes.

"Isolda?" A voice came from the entrance to the Hospital wing.

Turning, Isolda's eyes locked onto the portrait being held by a man that could only be Abraxas' son. He was older in his portrait than she remembered. There were hard lines around his eyes, but it was still him. Merlin, she had loved him. 

"Brax," her voice trembled.

"Don't just stand there Lucius, take me over," Abraxas demanded from the gilded frame. "He told me you were dead, that they killed you."

"He lied, 'Brax." Isolda's voice was filled with regret. "I let my guard down and he surprised me. He took me from you, hid me away in the depth of the Dark Forest where Mr. Snape found me. We have to destroy him and I need your son's help to do it."

"Now just wait a moment here, I don't know who this witch is, but you cannot be suggesting that…" Lucius sputtered, clearly floored by the suggestion that they strike out against Lord Voldemort.

"Quiet boy," Abraxas cut him off. "You will help her and we will destroy him. He stole something very dear to me, to our family, the night he took Isolda from me. No one tricks a Malfoy and lives to tell the tale. He made a fool of me and that cannot stand." The fury radiating from the portrait was nearly palpable.

"I'll make him pay for his betrayal, I swear it," Isolda said softly, eyes locked onto Abraxas.

"Forgive me for believing him," Abraxas asked.

"Done. I know how convincing he can be," she whispered.

"What do you need for this ritual?" Severus asked cautiously, as if afraid to interrupt her conversation with the portrait of the late Lord Malfoy.

"I'll need to carve a ritual circle, anoint it with our shared blood, and then we need something connected to Tom. Something more visceral than just your dark Marks. One of his horcruxes would be best," she said, not registering the look of shock on the two wizard's faces. "Before we begin, understand that even if everything goes right…the backlash from the ritual could kill us all." Her voice was soft. There was always a price to be paid for magic, the darker the art, the steeper the price. To undo so much evil, it was very possible the magic would claim their lives in payment. It was only right that she atone for her misdeeds with her life, but these two men might not feel the same.

"Horcruxes?" Severus looked horrified.

"Yes, there were two that I knew of in my time and I'm certain he'd have created a third at the very least," she said quietly. Threes and sevens, it was always threes and sevens with Tom. Some dark knowledge passed through Severus' black eyes in that moment and Isolda could almost swear the man turned a little green just then. "What is it?"

"I know who we can use as a focus." Severus closed his eyes. "There is a boy, who shares a connection to the Dark Lord's mind."

"That would be ideal," she said, wondering who this child was to the man who had liberated her from her prison. "We will need to move quickly. The longer I'm free, the more likely that he will discover it. It will take me a good three days to prepare the circle."

Severus and Lucius shared a long look before both men nodded. "In three days then."

oOo

Three days later, they gathered in an abandoned classroom deep in the Slytherin Dungeons under Hogwarts. The room was empty except for a large runic circle that had been carved into the stone floor. Isolda was wearing a simple white shift and the two adult wizards were wearing only white linen pants. Standing in the corner of the room was a wide-eyed teenage boy, the subject of a most interesting prophecy that Albus had reluctantly shared with her. It was only fitting that he should be the focus for this ritual, the power to vanquish the Dark Lord indeed. The boy was wearing simple black robes, and he watched as she took a wickedly sharp dagger and cut into Severus' and Lucius' forearms to add their blood to a silver bowl.

"Now, it's my turn." She offered the blade to Abraxas' son and suppressed a hiss as he sliced cleanly into her flesh. There was no hesitation and distantly she wondered just when he'd grown so comfortable cutting into people. It was not something that came naturally, such ease with a blade took practice. She took the dagger back and used the tip to swirl their blood together. She dripped their blood around the edges of the circle and they all felt the shudder of magic in the room as the circle was complete.

"Mr. Potter, please come and stand in the center of the circle," she instructed. The teenager seemed to grit his teeth, but he moved to stand where she'd pointed. Next, she nodded to Severus and Lucius, together they moved over the line of runes. The magic rushing along her skin in a wave that stole her breath for a moment, a sign that the ritual had begun.

She reached out and grasped the hands that seemed to find hers instinctively. In that moment, it wasn't Lucius and Severus standing there with her; she was pulled back to a night long ago when it had been Tom and 'Brax in the circle. Their magic flowed through her, filling her and intertwining with her own unique power. Isolda opened her eyes and looked at the two men, she could feel their magic now. It was different and distinct to the men they were replacing in the ritual, but there was a bond between them that went beyond the mark they both carried on their arm. It was surprising, but in a good way. Their shared bond would strengthen the ritual.

"All right Tom," she spoke softly, knowing the ritual would carry her words directly to his ears. The Potter boy was the focus, and would act as a conduit. "Let's find out exactly how deep your betrayal runs." With those words, she gathered the swirling mass of power and willed it outwards. The magic soaked into the Dark Mark on the two wizards and she could feel just how much he had perverted the spell. He'd altered her design, changing it from a bond of power to a kind of parasitic spell that leeched life and power from those who carried it. As the magic burned the mark away, it also restored what had been stolen.

Under the fear and rage she could sense from Tom through the Potter boy, she could feel the magic reaching for someone's life force. Without a second thought, she pulled that seeking force towards her…willing to lay down her life in exchange for righting the wrongs that she'd allowed to happen. As the magic burned through her, light slowly stole her away into its brilliant embrace.

Isolda felt more than heard Tom's death cry and then she was free…released from the burning, raging inferno of magic. She felt ghostly arms wrapping around her, pulling her into a comforting embrace. Sometimes the cost for redemption was death, and it was a price she'd never been afraid to pay.

"You did it, Isolda." Abraxas' voice whispered into her ear. "We're free now."

~Fin


	11. Unlikely Ally

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House

Category: Drabble

Prompt: For the tenth time in as many minutes, he/she/they glanced up at the clock.

Word Count: 389

oOo

For the tenth time in as many minutes, she glanced up at the clock. Daphne was late and it wasn't like her. Pansy paced up and down the floor, chewing on her bottom lip. Their world had been turned upside down in a matter of days, and years of planning and manoeuvering had been washed away by the sheer force of Potter's damnable will. The Dark Lord was dead, their friends and families were in the Black cells at the Ministry awaiting trial, and most of their assets had been frozen.

Daphne was organizing meetings for some of the girls that had been affected to try and gauge how extensive the sweep was. Daphne's family had been neutral both in this war, and the first one, yet Marcus Greengrass was also languishing in a cell and their family's vaults had been frozen. It was not a hunt for Death Eaters; it was a proverbial witch hunt for Slytherins. This had the potential to get very bad, for all of them. Pansy herself had been hiding, terrified of the Aurors coming for her too.

Finally, Daphne ducked inside and shook the rain off her cloak.

"Pansy, are you here?" she called.

"Merlin, Daphne! Where have you been?" Pansy went over and hugged her friend tightly.

"I was convincing someone to come and help us." Daphne hugged Pansy back just as fiercely.

"Who?" Pansy moved back as the door opened up.

"Me." Harry Potter stepped through the door. "Daphne told me what's been happening, and I want to help."

"Why would you ever want to help us? I tried to hand you over to the Dark Lord," Pansy sneered at him. This was all his fault!

"Because I didn't destroy one tyrant, to let the Ministry become the next one," Potter said. "My godfather was thrown into Azkaban and he was innocent. I won't let them do it again. I promise, I'll do whatever I can to stop this."

Pansy looked into Potter's eyes for a long moment, and then she nodded. "I believe you."

"Ok, let's get to work," Harry said, nodding to the two Slytherin witches.

"Ok, come and have a look at the documents we've gotten together." Pansy nodded for him to follow her, and hoped that just maybe Potter's luck would work for them this time.


	12. Luckier than Most

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House

Category: Short Story

Prompt: Bundimun

Word Count: 557

Set a short while after the Battle of Hogwarts.

oOo

Molly walked toward what remained of her beloved home. The war was done and while they had won, the losses were staggering. They'd lost Fred and that cruel fact was still too much for her to think about. Today was not for mourning the lost, it was for starting to put their home back to rights. Arthur disapparated and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

"Alright there, Molly-wobbles?" he asked, looking at the scorched shell of their home.

"As well as can be expected," Molly answered and squared her shoulders. "Right then, let's see how bad it is. We may need to level it and start over." Just saying that was like a blade in her belly, but there was no help for it. It had been months since they'd been back here, and it was likely weather and pests had taken their toll on the Burrow. It could well be beyond saving.

"It won't be that bad," Arthur reassured her, and led her forward.

Together, they started by casting a strong stability charm, just to make certain that the damaged home wouldn't fall down on their heads. There was a pervasive smell of decay that wafted from the open windows and Molly knew that it was very likely that they had a Bundimun infestation. She opened the front door and wanted to weep. Water had gotten in through the broken windows and holes in the roof, the stench damp and magical pests hit her like a wave. The odor clung to the back of her throat as they carefully moved through the house, examining every inch of it.

"We'll need to gut it, and use scouring charms to get rid of the little blighters," Arthur said, casting a quick _scourgify_ as he saw some of them scurrying around the edge of a chair. "Hopefully it's not to the point where we need to petition the Ministry to exterminate them."

Molly nodded and left her husband to deal with the living room, while she headed into the kitchen. She drew her wand and started scouring the space from top to bottom, taking out all of her rage and frustration at the current situation out on the bundimun devouring her home. As she cleaned, some of the anger leeched away and a strange sense of calm started to settle over her. The damage wasn't severe yet and they had, thankfully, caught the issue in time.

"Molly dear?" Arthur called from the doorway.

She turned, leaning back against her counter. "How bad is it out there?"

"Just surface damage. We'll have it sorted in no time." He went over and kissed her temple. "A little hard work, and it'll be good as new, my love."

Molly leaned into her husband's arms and just soaked up the love and support he offered. They hadn't lost their home, and most of their family had survive the war. All in all, they had been luckier than some. Things would slowly be put back the way she wanted them, and with a little hard work most of the broken, damaged things could be fixed. A part of her just wished that the lost could be resurrected with the same ease that they'd evicted the bundimun from their home. Wouldn't that be just wonderful? Sadly, there was only so much that magic could do.


	13. Things We Do For Love

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House

Category: Theme

Prompt: "I have half a mind to puke on you right now."

Word Count: 2312

oOo

"For the love of Merlin, please just kill me now." Pansy's forehead was resting against the cool tile of the bathroom wall. Her stomach was churning and the smell of breakfast cooking was about to rid her of what little she'd managed to keep down.

Her mother had warned her about this, and shared many charming tales about just how horribly Mrs. Parkinson had been hit by morning sickness while carrying Pansy. A very large part of her had prayed to every deity she could imagine, and a few she'd invented, that she'd be spared a similar level of hell. Apparently, everyone had been on a coffee break when she'd been pleading her case.

"Pansy? Are you ok in there?" There was a knock at the bathroom door and Harry's voice carried through the heavy oak.

"Do I SOUND OK?" she shouted over her shoulder, and then instantly regretted it as her head pounded. Sweet Circe, she swore he was never touching her again. Nothing could possibly be worth this!

"I'm coming in." There was a dull click as he unlocked the door and entered the well-appointed bathroom. He took one look at her and went to the sink, wetting a couple face cloths down with cool water and laying one across the back of her neck.

"I have half a mind to puke on you right now." Pansy gave him an unfriendly look. This was all his bloody fault.

"Naw, you know you love me," he teased her a little. "You should let me call the Healer, you've been sick like this for days." His humor slipped off his face, and revealed the concern there.

"There's nothing they can do." Pansy sighed, some of her anger melting away as the cool cloth soothed the incessant throbbing in her skull. "Nothing to do other than just live through this nightmare." She leaned back into his arms, just wanting this part of the pregnancy to be over and done with. Yes, and after the puking she'd move on to the bloating and swollen ankles phase. Joy. Just kill her now.

"There has to be something they can give you that will help…" Harry used the second cloth to gently wipe her face, brushing a kiss against her temple. His sweet little gestures were the only thing keeping Pansy from murdering him in his sleep right now.

"My mum says there's not," she whimpered, indulging in a rare moment of weakness. "She said if I take anything it could hurt the baby, and a witch just has to suffer through this." She didn't tell Harry about her mother's other, less than helpful words. It had been along the lines of, 'You've made you bed, now you get to sleep in it.'

"Will you please let me ask Mrs. Weasley?" Harry asked for what had to be the millionth time.

"Like she'd help me." Pansy snorted. "You remember her toast at our wedding? Praying that you realized what a snake you'd married, before I ruined you." At least Harry had a the good grace to wince, remembering that extremely uncomfortable moment from their wedding.

"Just let me try, ok? She's had four years to get over it and Ginny and Blaise have started on their Quidditch team. We both know Blaise is enough to win anyone over on the good points of Slytherins." He chuckled and rubbed his hands along her arms.

"You can try, but don't be surprised if she sends you packing," she relented. "I'm a bit better, just please go and clear the smell out of the kitchen. I think bacon, sausage, and…" she paused as her stomach roiled threateningly. "Oh bloody hell…any cooked meat is off the menu until we find a way to handle this." Even saying the word 'sausage' had caused her to gag.

"Whatever you want. Are plain pancakes ok?" he asked.

She nodded. "And maybe a little honey and yogurt on them." She gave him a doe-eyed look, not above pleading.

"Anything for you," he kissed her cheek again, adoration clear in his eyes. "Ok, I'll go and deal with the kitchen…you just rest here for a minute." Harry hugged her gently one more time, before heading off to try and get rid of the smell of bacon from Grimmauld Place's kitchen.

oOo

Harry apparated to the Burrow after getting Pansy setting into bed with a book and a soothing cup of tea. He was very worried about his wife, and needed some reassurance that there wasn't anything wrong. He spotted the Weasley Matriarch in the garden with George and Angelina's children, playing on a blanket in the sunlight. Just the sight made Harry's heart ache, longing for the day when it was his kids playing in the garden.

"Harry! What a surprise!" Molly got up and headed over, pulling him into a warm hug. "It's so good to see you, Harry dear."

"It's good to see you too, Mrs. Weasley." He returned the hug. "I was wondering if I could maybe ask for some advice?"

"Of course. Grab young Fred for me, he and his sister can settle down for a nap while we chat. I'll put a pot of tea on." She picked up Roxanne and carried the little girl inside.

Harry scooped up little Fred and chuckled as the tot rested his head on Harry's shoulder. He placed the boy into the play pen, and smiled a little as he grabbed his teddy bear and snuggled up beside his sister for a nap.

"They're getting so big." Harry's expression was soft as he watched the children. He really couldn't wait to be a father.

"They grow up faster than you know." Molly gently patted his arm, and led him through to the kitchen. "How is Pansy doing? Blaise mentioned that you're expecting."

"She's…having a pretty rough time. It's really why I'm here," Harry said, letting some of his worry peek out. "I know witches get morning sickness, but she can't keep anything down and it feels like she's practically living in the bathroom."

"Oh dear…" Molly frowned. "Poor girl. Sometimes it can get very severe. What's her healer doing for it?" She started pouring the tea.

"That's just it, she won't let me call him…and just says that she doesn't want to risk hurting the baby by taking potions." He was frustrated. "I'm more worried about her, damnit."

"I imagine Rose isn't any help there either." She snorted, her opinion of Mrs. Parkinson quite clear. "I'll come over tomorrow and see if I can't help her a little. I remember how ill I was with Charlie, thank Merlin the others weren't like that or I'd have stopped after Percy," she stated with finality. "I…I owe you both an apology for what I said at the wedding," Molly said with uncharacteristic trepidation.

"You don't need to apologize to me. I knew you were just still upset about my split with Ginny…but Pansy might want to hear it. I love her, and you know that I've always considered all of you my family too. I just wish things weren't so strained," Harry tried to explain.

"I know, hopefully this will help. For today, stop at the tea house in Diagon Alley on your way home and pick up a box of good quality peppermint tea. A box of ginger tea wouldn't go amiss either. Get her to take a nice relaxing bath and try keeping her food fairly bland. That will help right away," Molly advised, reaching over and squeezing his hand. "I'll put a few things together for her as well."

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," he said, some of the stress melting off his shoulders.

"Nonesense, it's long overdue." She waved it away.

oOo

Pansy felt like crap, but after hearing that Molly Weasley was coming to visit, she'd made herself get up and get dressed. Her elf, Kessa, had laid out a comfortable but stylish set of robes and soft slippers for her feet. She knew the woman hadn't been here since the war, and the changes would no doubt surprise her. The entire house had been redone, and the darkness that had pervaded the home eradicated through sheer force of will. It was a point of pride for Pansy, and she wanted on some level to prove that she was a good wife to Harry.

She settled down in the sitting room to wait, sipping some of the ginger tea and enjoying the brief respite it offered from hurling her guts up. Luckily the Weasley matriarch didn't keep her waiting long, and seeing her made Pansy wish desperately that Harry had been able to take the morning off from the Ministry.

"Mrs. Weasley, I'm so glad you could make it," Pansy said, forcing herself to dredge up all of her hard won manners. Just because the woman was a rude, beligerant, blood-traitor didn't give her any excuse to be uncivil. This woman was important to Harry, and that afforded her some leeway despite their history.

"Mrs. Potter," Molly replied in turn, holding herself a little stiffly. "I thought Harry would be here?"

"They were short-handed today, so he had to go into the office," Pansy explained. "Please come and sit down." She sank down into her chair, swallowing as a wave of nausea hit her.

"Oh you poor girl, you look just about done in." Molly swept over and opened a tin of shortbread biscuits. "Try one, they used to help settle my stomach."

Pansy looked dubious, but accepted one of the buttery cookies and took a small measured bite. Surprisingly it sat well in her stomach. "Thank you." She still looked somewhat suspicious.

"Consider it an apology, for treating you like I have." She sighed as sat down, making tea for them both.

"You don't owe me anything," Pansy protested, massaging her temple to try and ease off the headache she could feel brewing. "It's not like we were ever on good terms, and I know you and my mother have a history."

"I do, actually. Harry, well…that boy's been like one of my own since he was eleven years old. I can be a stubborn, hard-headed, Gryffindor sometimes, and I just made myself ignore how happy you made him," she admitted, looking like the admission almost caused her physical pain.

"I know you didn't approve, but I love Harry very much. Merlin knows, I would not have put myself through this for just anyone," she said, somewhat exasperated. Her relationship with Harry had been completely unexpected. After the war, he'd helped her and the other Slytherin families get out from under an aggressive attack from the Ministry, calling for fairness and transparency in all legal proceedings. Her father was still serving his ten year sentence for collusion with the Dark Lord, but because of Harry at least her family's accounts and estates hadn't been seized too. Somewhere, in the middle of all that, they'd developed feelings for once another.

"Yes, our wizards never really understand just how much we go through for them," Molly agreed. "This is for you, and it should help a little. When I was pregnant with my second son, I was a wreak and Arthur's mother shared a lot of this with me." She handed her a basket. "There's some bath salts, a few tins of shortbread, a little sachet of herbs for under your pillow, a bottle of lavender oil, and something else I should have given you a long time ago."

Pansy looked through the little gift basket and felt tears welling up in her eyes. There, nestled under other gifts was a coveted Weasley jumper, knitted in Slytherin green with a white 'P' on it. Harry loved his well-worn collection of jumpers, and it was a point of pride that they were only given to people Mrs. Weasley deemed family. It was the nicest thing anyone had done for her since the war had ended. People looked at her like she didn't deserve to be married the saviour of the wizarding world. At best, people treated her like she was invisible, though more often than not, there were sneers and barely whispered comments that cut deep. She tried to open her mouth and thank Molly, but nothing came out.

"Now, there's no need for tears." Molly went and moved to sit beside the young witch. "You're Harry's family and that makes you part of my family too…it's just long past time I remembered it." She wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a gentle hug.

Pansy's stubborn resolve crumbled and she turned and gave the other woman a real hug. "Thank you," she whispered, hormones making her incapable of halting the tears streaming down her face.

Molly rubbed her back gently. "There, there dear. It'll be alright," she soothed her.

"I'm sorry, I'm such a mess." Pansy pulled back, wiping at her eyes.

"Nonsense, there's nothing to be sorry for." Molly shook her head. "Pregnancy makes a mess of us at the best of times. Let's just have a nice cup of tea, and you can tell me how you ended up falling in love with our Harry."

Pansy took a deep breath, finding her composure again. She could finally understand why her husband loved Mrs. Weasley and her family as much as he did, and just maybe she could see a future where she might feel something similar for the woman. It was easy to tell Molly about her relationship with Harry, because she did love him. She'd do anything for him, and providing Mrs. Weasley's tricks helped, she might even consider putting herself through this again one day, so that their child could have a sibling or two. Of course if these little tricks didn't work, she fully reserved the right to puke on him at the next available opportunity.


	14. I Found Love

Written for Round 9 of the Houses Competition, Slytherin House.

Category: Themed [Love]

Prompt: Book

Word Count: 2772

AU – Diverges from Canon just after the Battle of Hogwarts. Italics indicate a memory. Enjoy!

oOo

" _I don't understand what the issue is Draco, I simply do not. The Greengrasses are one of the few families that came out of the war unscathed and that they're willing to betroth their youngest daughter to you is practically a gift. I realize that your father promised you'd be free to make your own decision, but these are difficult times for our family. We all have to make sacrifices."_

Draco felt ill. Last night his mother had broached the subject of his marriage, and informed him that she had been in talks with Marcus Greengrass. Together, they had agreed that Draco should marry Astoria as soon as they both completed their NEWTS. He couldn't do it. He'd thrown the contract into the fire and stormed out of the drawing room. His father had told him, when he turned fifteen, that he'd never force him into a marriage against his will. Lucius might have been an unmitigating bastard about everything else, but Draco had always respected him for that. Now that his father was in Azkaban, his mother, whom he'd always trusted, was trying to do this to him. He wouldn't stand for it.

Draco was of age, and until his father was released from the wizarding prison in five years, he was the head of the Malfoy family. Regardless of what she tried to force, his mother had no power over his life other than what he gave her. The limestone path crunched under his feet as he wandered the expansive gardens of the Estate. He had a handful of months before his NEWTs, and then he could put Hogwarts behind him for good. There had been many times over this past year where he'd questioned his choice to return, but he was no coward. Ultimately, Draco had gone back to show the world that he was not ashamed to be seen. He regretted a lot his choices in life, but he wouldn't let anyone judge him for them.

If Draco wanted to appease his mother, he needed to find an alternative choice for the next Lady Malfoy. His goal to marry for love seemed hopelessly out of reach if he placed a time limit on it, but it didn't hurt to consider his options. The ideal witch needed to be politically sound, which immediately dismissed most the girls in Slytherin. That meant he needed to look at daughters from neutral families, or someone from the light side that the public could embraced. If he truly wanted to change the Malfoy image, she couldn't be a pureblood either. Draco ran a hand through his short, blonde hair as a crazy idea started percolating.

As Draco walked, the idea evolved into a plan. Not only would he snag possibly the most eligible witch in Britain, but he'd be stealing her out from under Weaselbee's nose. A wicked little smile crossed his lips and he headed back to the house.

oOo

It was fortuitous that Potter and Weasley hadn't returned to Hogwarts, Draco mused as he walked down the train in search of his quarry. The days after his epiphany had been filled by planning his course of action, and trying to divine a way to make Hermione Granger fall in love with him. First order of business was getting her to ditch the Weasel, but a little gold had supplied ample ammunition. The best part was, none of it had even been fabricated, the red-headed blighter was making this all too easy. Maybe one day Draco could thank him. He opened Hermione's compartment and stuck his head in.

"Granger, do you have a minute?" he asked, staying very respectful.

Hermione frowned a little but nodded, setting her book aside and gesturing for him to join her. The small numbers of students that had gone home for the Easter break meant that today she had the compartment to herself.

"What did you need Malfoy?" Her head fell slightly to the side, clearly confused by him willingly sitting with her.

"Look, it's probably not my place, but I really think you deserve to see this." He handed her a plain white envelope. "I owe you, for the testimony you gave at my trial…and frankly you deserve better."

Hermione's look of confusion intensified, as she opened the envelope. Inside were a series of photographs, and as she flipped through them, her face grew very pale. "Where did you get these?" she whispered, lifting teary eyes to meet his.

Draco was struck by the actual colour of her eyes, realizing that he'd never paid much attention to them before. They were the colour of a fine brandy, almost like burnt caramel with tiny flecks of gold, but right now they shimmered with tears. "I'd heard rumors, so I paid an investigator to verify them. They're real, Granger. I'm not that much of a shit that I'd make it up. I'm sorry."

Hermione closed her eyes for a moment and swallowed. "Thank you."

"Don't thank me for that." He sighed. "I know you don't want to hear it right now, but you're better off. You were always too good for him." He chuckled a little at her incredulous look. "Seriously, I mean you're bloody brilliant and there's never been a spell you couldn't figure out. He cursed himself with a slug-expelling charm." He quirked an eyebrow at her.

Hermione laughed a little through the tears, clearly remembering that. "In his defence, his wand was broken."

"Broken wand or not, you were more talented at twelve, than he'll ever manage to be." Draco pulled a wrapped gift out of his bag. "I thought this might cheer you up."

Hermione looked at the gift dubiously, but accepted it and carefully unwrapped it. Her fingers slid under the tape, not tearing the wrapping like some did. Under the expensive gold wrapping paper, was a well-worn book, it was old and slightly battered, but her face lit up. "I can't accept this! It's a first edition." She all but gaped at him.

"Yes you can," Draco said simply, with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Thank you." Her eyes dropped down to the cover, fingers tracing over 'Hogwarts: A History' on the cover.

It was the original publication and had to be more than eight hundred years old. She would doubtlessly be able to feel the subtle hum of a preservation charm on it. Draco was pleased at the obvious pleasure his gift was giving her.

"It was the very first magical book I bought, and I've always wanted one of the earlier editions." She blushed a little.

"I know you'll take care of it," Draco said. Maybe this plan wouldn't be as hard as he'd thought, the warmth radiating off of her in this moment was incredibly alluring. "I should go and do a quick patrol of the train." He stood and gave her a small smile.

"Ok, and Malfoy…I appreciate this." She lifted the envelope.

"You can call me Draco, if you want," he offered. "And don't mention it. All I ask is that you don't let him pull that shit with you anymore. You're worth ten of that red-headed wanker." He winked playfully and ducked out of her compartment.

oOo

Draco didn't get a chance to talk to her alone for nearly a week after they returned. Everyone was digging in to start prepping for the NEWTs, and a palpable feeling of stress had permeated the air around the huddled groups of seventh year students. Draco was searching for a reference book in one of the more isolated corners of the library when he heard the distinct sound of someone crying. He plucked the book he needed from the shelf, and went in search of the source of the tearful sounds.

Hermione was sitting on the floor, head resting on her knees as she cried. The way she tried to muffle the sounds against her robes told him that she was trying to avoid detection. Taking a deep breath, he headed over and sank to the ground beside her. With a subtle flick of his wand, he cast an anti-eavesdropping charm, and a mild aversion ward. It would keep anyone else from stumbling over them. Cautiously, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and was stunned when she moved, turning into the offered comfort.

"Easy there Granger, what's happened?" he asked, rubbing her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner. If Weaselbee had done something to upset her, he was going to track the bastard down and re-arrange his face. He did not need Hermione upset and obsessing over the idiot Gryffindor.

"My parents," she whispered, clinging to him.

"What about them?" Draco inquired, clearly seeing that something was horribly wrong. He felt…concerned for her, yes that had to be the emotion clawing at his chest. Just concern.

Hermione moved back, wiping her tears away. The moment of weakness put aside as if it had never occurred. "Just after the end of sixth year, before the Ministry fell, I…oh Merlin, I obliviated them and relocated them to Australia. I knew they'd never agree to go into hiding, and if they stayed both know what would have happened to them. I removed every memory of me, and our lives as a family. They don't even know their names are Granger." She looked at Draco, guilt and pain swimming in her eyes. "I thought after the war that I could restore their memories…"

"Something that extensive…." Draco trailed off, the full horror of her situation hitting him like the Hogwarts Express. "I'd say I'm sorry, but that falls so short." He couldn't even imagine knowing his parents were alive and well, but still lost to him forever.

"The medi-wizards just confirmed that any attempts to restore their memories could result in permanent brain damage." She leaned back against the wall. "I'd always thought I would get them back." Her tone was haunted.

Draco just reached over and covered her hand with his. "If you need anything, or even if you just need to talk about it, I'm here." Draco offered, knowing that there was nothing anyone could do to make her feel any better about this. She'd saved their lives, but the guilt would always be with her.

"I might take you up on that, Draco," she said his name hesitantly. "If…if you'd like, you can call me Hermione," she offered in return.

"I'd like that, Hermione." Draco squeezed her hand gently, hoping that his company was at least helping her to cope with this news.

oOo

"Can you pass me Mosby's Guide to Human Transfiguration?" Hermione asked distractedly as she took notes.

"Sure," Draco replied and plucked it from the stack of books that littered their study table. NEWTs were in just a week and final preparations had begun. His grey eyes lingered on Hermione, watching her effortlessly write her notes in a flowing, elegant script. Until now, he hadn't really noticed just how delicate her hands were, Potioneer's hands his Godfather would have called them. While she read the book, her slender fingers twirled her quill, occasionally pausing to jot down one observation or another. He'd been noticing little things like that about her lately, the way her eyes lit up when she'd stumbled over something particularly interesting in a book, or how little blue sparks jumped between her curls when she was angry. She really was beautiful, and Draco wondered how he'd missed it all these years.

'You didn't miss it the night of the Yule Ball,' he thought to himself, dropping his eyes back down to his text book to try and focus on studying. The words however just seemed to float off the page, mocking him for his sudden attraction to the Gryffindor Bookworm. Finally, he sighed and shut his book in defeat.

"Hermione, I was wondering if I could ask you something?" He finally worked up the nerve to ask.

"Of course, what is it?" Hermione asked, looking up from her work.

"Well, since all of us that returned are permitted to go off castle grounds on weekends, I was wondering if you'd like to go out with me on Saturday. We could go to Hogsmeade and try to unwind before exams hit."

The shock on her face was almost comical. "As friends, or…" she trailed off, clearly embarrassed to finish the sentence.

"Like a date, a real date, if you're interested," Draco asked her, mentally praying that she did. Merlin, he could actually see himself with her, and there was a real possibility that she could tell him to bugger off. He watched her nervously bite her bottom lip before nodding.

"I'd like that," She answered, a bit of a blush staining her cheeks.

Draco smiled, looking like he'd just caught the Golden Snitch. "Meet me in the Entrance Hall at 10 then, and we'll head to Hogsmeade from there," he said decisively. One thing his father had instilled in him, was the knowledge that witches liked a confident wizard. Blushing and stumbling over his works might be 'cute', but having a plan and executing it flawlessly would beat cute every day.

oOo

Not quite three months ago, Draco had hatched a plot to convince Hermione Granger to fall in love with him. He'd been convinced that she was his golden ticket to restoring his family's reputation, and escaping an arranged marriage to a witch he could not stand. He hadn't expected to fall in love along the way. Today, they were sitting together under one of the old oaks down by the Black Lake. The warm June sun danced off the water, and a soft breeze kept them cool. He was sitting with his back against the gnarled old trunk, and Hermione was leaning back against his chest. Her chestnut curls smelled like oranges, and he indulged the temptation to bury his face in them and tease her neck.

"Draco, I'm trying to finish this chapter." She laughed, moving her head to the side, away from his touch.

"Hermione, you're the most brilliant witch to come through Hogwarts since Rowena Ravenclaw," he drawled and plucked her book out of her hands. "If you don't know it by now, it's not worth worrying over," he said and snuck a kiss. Draco had never felt this relaxed and carefree before, and he wanted to hold onto this feeling forever.

"Give me my book back." She punched his arm lightly.

"Only after you kiss me," he teased.

Hermione gave him an exasperated look, but leaned in and brushed her lips against his. Draco slid his hand into her hair and returned the kiss eagerly.

"Mione? What in the bloody hell are you doing with the ferret?!" Came Ron's shocked voice.

Hermione moved back, eyes wide. "Ron? What are you doing here?" she sputtered, cheeks red with embarrassment.

"I thought we could maybe talk, and you'd give me a second chance…but clearly you have other plans." Ron shot Draco a positively venomous look.

"Clearly." Draco smirked. "She's traded up, Weaselbee. Why don't you go find yourself another slag to screw around with? Hermione's too good for you, and now she knows that." He bounced his eyebrows a little to antagonize him.

"Why you!" Ron went to draw his wand only to have it plucked cleanly out of his hand. "Hey!"

"Enough! The both of you!" Hermione stood and fixed Ron with a dark look. "You can apologize for you horrid behaviour, Ronald Weasley, but other than that, we don't have anything to talk about. You made your opinion of me quite clear, in that letter you sent when I confronted you about those witches. Did you really think I was going to sit and sulk over you? Wait for you to 'forgive' me? Draco happens to be my boyfriend now, and you will talk to him with some respect, or not at all. And you will not call him that again, understood?" She flicked her eyes down at Draco.

Draco just nodded and stood, slipping an arm around his witch and dropping a kiss down onto her curls. "Anything for you, Hermione," he said, and was utterly surprised that he meant it. He watched Ron's face turn a few shades darker than his hair, before he stormed off, and found he didn't really care. He had the girl, and he was never going to let her go. "Marry me, witch," he said, tone light…but only half joking.

Hermione snorted. "If you're going to propose, I expect a whole lot more than that."

Draco's smile widened. "I'll keep that in mind."

~Fin


	15. Awakening What Sleeps

Written for Bonus Round 3 of the Houses Competition, for Slytherin House.

Theme: First experience or first time doing something

Prompt: Discovering that you are a magical creature or a squib

Word Count: 1689

Author's Note: Very AU, uses the moment from the movies where Hermione howls to distract Remus. Remus survives the Battle of Hogwarts. Warnings for violence. Memories are denoted with Italics. Enjoy!

oOo

Hermione sat down on a fallen log, looking up at the sky and focusing on the way the setting sun painted the clouds in beautiful pallet of pastels. Escaping from the company of the Order had been almost shockingly easy, a simple murmured word about needing some time alone to mourn had been enough. It almost hurt that none of them had even offered a single sentiment to try and convince her to stay. The battle of Hogwarts had been eight days ago, but adrenaline was still pulsing through her veins. Being still took more effort than she cared to admit, a combination of the past year spent on the run and the dark secret she was now forced to carry. A single crystalline tear slipped down her cheek.

There was a sudden crack of a branch and her head snapped to the left, wand instantly in her hand and levelled at the form of Fenrir Greyback as he stepped into the clearing. He spread his hands wide, and didn't advance any further. Instantly she was taken back to the last time she'd seen the werewolf, during the lull in the battle when Harry had gone to hand himself over to Voldemort.

" _I owe you, girlie." A low, all too familiar voice snarled into Hermione's ear. The hand clasped tightly over her mouth kept her from screaming and alerting the people inside the Great Hall. She struggled madly against the massive man holding her, even as terror tried to turn her limbs into lead. Her heart was pounding madly, but it didn't matter as he pulled her into an empty room. No. No. No. Voldemort had called truce. She should have gone with Harry, should have stayed with Ron…should have done anything but walk off on her own. Once inside the empty storage room, he tossed her away from him and she hit the wall hard, dazed as her head struck a shelf._

 _Only clinging to consciousness, she fumbled for her wand…but it wasn't there._

" _Didn't think I'd be that stupid did you?" He chuckled. "No one will disturb us now, and we have a little debt to settle."_

" _No…you can't…he said there was no more fighting if Harry went to him…" She scrambled back away from him, backing into a corner and looking up at the towering werewolf. It was the first time she'd seen him in truly human form. His hair was jet black, with a few strands of silver at his temples. His eyes were intense, and he seemed almost amused with her attempts get away from him._

" _Oh I'm not going to kill you, witch." He grinned darkly. "And since it's not the full moon, I can't quite turn you into one of my pack…" He knelt down, strange blue eyes flickering to gold as he looked at her. "But that leave so much open territory." He smiled, though it was more a predatory baring of teeth._

 _Hermione reacted instinctively, kicking out at his knee and launching at him, trying to steal back her wand. Logically, she knew there was no way she could overpower him, even if he hadn't been a werewolf, he was simply so much bigger. Tears of frustration streamed down her face as he had the nerve to laugh at her, like her fighting for her life was funny! She dug her nails into his neck, wanting to tear his throat out with her bare hands._

" _Feisty little thing, aren't you." He finally grabbed her hands and forced them behind her, gripping her wrists in one massive hand. She was struggling against his grip, but it was pointless. "You really would do it, wouldn't you? Kill me with your bare hands?" His gaze was measuring, and held things Hermione didn't want to name. He leaned down and sniffed along her throat, breathing her in deeply. He nuzzled the neck of her shirt down, and licked across the delicate skin covering her collar bone._

" _Don't, please…" she whimpered, trying to struggle but there was nowhere to go._

" _Too late, girlie," he said and bit down, her screams sweet to his ears. The pain was indescribable, so much worse than even what Bellatrix had done to her. After what felt like an eternity, he pulled back, wickedness passing across his features. "Lick my wound." He ordered her, putting pressure on the back of her neck._

" _No!" She turned her face away, disgust turning her stomach violently._

 _He retaliated by raking his claws down her right shoulder blade, ripping easily through her clothing and into her flesh. "One taste, and I'll let you go, little witch. Say no again and I'll take you apart, piece by piece," he promised._

 _Hermione was sobbing from the pain as she leaned forward and tried not to gag. Her tongue darted out, licking a hesitant line along his jugular. Then she bit down, viciously, trying to hurt him the only way she could._

 _Fenrir grunted and buried a hand in her hair. "Careful girl." He flung her off him, eyes flashing gold as he saw the blood across her lips. "Be seeing you." He unwarded the door, stepped out, and tossed her wand back at her before fleeing the castle._

 _Hermione crawled over to retrieve her wand, the bite and claw marks screaming at her, like someone had poured acid against her skin. She staggered towards the Great Hall, looking for help only to see everyone filtering outside. Her heart dropped down to her knees as she saw Hagrid carrying Harry's limp form. Her face hardened, and she tried to force the excruciating pain out of her mind. The war wasn't done_.

"You bastard. Why?" she hissed at him, hating that she could feel tears falling down her face in spite of the rage burning her up inside.

"Because I could. Imagine my surprise when I got my first taste of you, and found there was already a wolf sleeping deep inside. Who told you what I'd done?" he asked, not advancing further into the clearing, knowing she'd attack if he did.

"Remus," she choked the name out, not certain if she was angrier with Greyback…or the man who had lied to her for years about the truth. The man that could have prevented this from happening, if he'd just once opened his mouth.

"He knew, didn't he?" Fenrir grinned, sharp canines clearly visible. "How long has he known?"

"Since the end of my third year," she whispered, lowering her wand and turning away.

" _Remus, what's happening to me?" Hermione asked her former Professor. She'd woken up the last three nights in a dead sweat, dreams of the moon, blood, fur, and claws running rampant in her head. She was running hot, like she had a fever and there was an itch under her skin that she couldn't banish. It was so much worse than the books said a reaction to a werewolf bite should be._

" _He's woken your wolf," Remus said, looking at the ground._

" _My what?" Hermione crossed the room and grabbed his arm. "I'm not a werewolf!"_

" _You weren't, but someone in your family was. A parent or grandparent…" he trailed off sadly and lifted his head to meet her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Hermione." The pity in them was like a slap across her face._

" _No…it's not hereditary!" She shook her head, stumbling back. It wasn't possible!_

" _Yes, and no." Remus sighed. "The child of a werewolf will not transform, not unless there is a ritual done to awaken the wolf inside. There has to be an exchange of blood, of wounds, teeth and claws…only when that happens can the sleeping wolf awaken."_

 _Hermione felt ill and shook her head. "No…"_

" _I should have told you, warned you…but I never thought you'd ever be in this situation," He admitted it._

" _How long have you known?" Hermione felt a sinking sensation in the pit of her stomach._

" _A werewolf answers only to the call of its own kind." He said, not needing to elaborate. They both remembered that night in the forbidden forest. She'd howled, and he'd answered._

 _Hermione just turned and left the room, apparating away from Grimmauld Place and the wizard she'd always trusted. A trust he had betrayed._

Hermione heard footsteps behind her, but didn't turn. What else could Greyback do to her now? She shuddered a little, feeling something stirring inside of her. It was hungry, angry, and wanted OUT. A sudden spear of pain shot up her spine and she fell to her knees, fingernails digging into the earth. Suddenly, there was a hand smoothing down her back and she could feel some of the pain settling.

"The first time is the hardest." Fenrir's voice cut through the haze of sensation. "I'll help you, little wolf."

"Why?" She turned her head and looked at him.

"Because, you're going to change the world…and maybe you can make things a little better people like us," he said pragmatically.

Her answer was cut off by a scream, as another wave hit her. She felt Fenrir peeling her out of her clothes, but she couldn't do more than bat at his hands ineffectively through the blinding pain. Even the cruciatus curse felt like child's play compared to this. It went on and on, as the moon began to rise over the horizon. Her eyes locked onto the moon, her body began to tremble and shake, skin rippling and in a violent few seconds, her bones bent and reshaped, muscles tore and reformed as the wolf created itself out of her human body.

Finally, the pain was gone and something else filled her; something wild and dark and free. Hermione threw her head back and howled with joy, an answering howl sounding beside her. She turned her head, seeing the massive grey wolf sitting beside her, patiently waiting her to join him. Other howls filled the night, and on shaky paws, Hermione followed the bigger wolf into the forest, answering a call older than Hogwarts itself, a call carried in her blood that was going to be answered for the very first time.

~Fin


	16. Just Friends

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, for Slytherin House. Category: Drabble / Prompt: [Pairing] Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger / Word Count: 323

AU – Canon Divergence after Battle of Hogwarts.

oOo

"So, we haven't really talked about that kiss." Ron ran a hand through his hair, looking a little uncomfortable. He shifted a little on his feet, and was chewing on the inside of his cheek.

Hermione bit her bottom lip and tried not to wince. She had been trying to avoid talking about 'the incident' as she'd started to think of it. "What did you think?" It was the coward's way out, but she really didn't want to be the first one to say that it had been utter rubbish.

"Well, I mean it was…I guess what I'm trying to say is…" he stumbled over his words, as if trying to get something out.

"It was rubbish, right?" Hermione guessed and at his immediate nod, she let out the breath she'd been holding. "Oh thank Merlin, I wasn't sure how I was going to say it."

"It was kind of like kissing my sister, you know?" All the tension seemed to melt away from his lanky frame, the relief clear.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean." Hermione laughed a little and sank down on the bench out in the Weasley garden. "So, just friends then?"

"Yeah, just friends." Ron wrapped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed a little, just like they used to do back at Hogwarts before things had gotten so complicated.

"You know, you should visit Lavender. I think she's still sweet on you." Hermione winked at him, seeing from the blush that she'd hit the nail right on the head. "Just be happy Ron. I can learn to put up with Lav-Lav," she teased.

"Do you think she'd like some flowers?" Ron asked.

With that question Hermione knew that things were finally back to normal with them. They could forget all about the kiss and go back to just being good friends, without any messy feelings getting in the way. It was how things were meant to be.


	17. Snowflakes and Sapphires

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, for Slytherin House. Category: Standard / Prompt: Snow / Word Count: 1113

AU – In the Final Battle, Voldemort is defeated but Harry is also killed. Takes place five and a half years after the battle of Hogwarts.

oOo

December 24th, 2003

Hermione walked alone through the silent graveyard. Snow was falling and had covered the tombstones in a pristine blanket of white. With the swirling snow dancing all around her, it was easy to feel like she was the only person left in the world. She reached her destination and knelt, reaching out and brushing the snow away from the face of simple black marble grave marker.

 _Harry James Potter_

 _July 31_ _st_ _, 1980 - May 2_ _nd_ _, 1998_

 _Beloved Friend_

 _The Ones that Love Us, Never Really Leave Us_

"Happy Christmas, Harry," she said softly. She came here every Christmas, to see him and make sure his grave was being well tended to. The defeat of Voldemort had been won at a terrible cost, and while the rest of the Wizarding World had seemly moved on, Hermione had never quite figured out how to do that. She told herself every year that this would be the last time; that this year she'd finally be able to say goodbye to him, but it was always a lie.

"A lot has happened this year; Ron and Lavender had their first baby, a little girl named Rose, and Neville finally got up the nerve to propose to Luna. Somehow, I always knew those two were perfect for each other and Luna's asked me to be her maid of honour. She wants to set a place at the table for you, because it wouldn't be right without you being there, even just in spirit." She paused, wiping away the tears that slipped down her cheeks.

"Sorry, I know I promised I wouldn't cry. I've always been such a wretched liar." She tried to laugh but it caught in her throat. She missed him so much, and the pain had never gone away. It was like a lingering wound that would tear open randomly, never truly healing.

"I…I'm seeing someone now. I know you told me that if the worst happened, you wanted me to move on and live my life, but I wasn't ready until now. It's harder because I know how you'd react, Merlin you'd probably hex him." She took a shaky breath and looked at the cold, unyielding marble. "It's Draco. I know I mentioned last time that we'd started working together at the Ministry, but we started dating this summer and things have been getting serious."

She looked up for a moment, a dizzying dance of white flakes broke the unyielding canvas of the night sky. "He's been the only one, since you. He loves me, Harry. I hope you can understand that you'll always have a place in my heart too, but I can't be alone forever." Sometimes she just felt so very alone, and Draco had been a balm for her tattered soul. He understood without ever needing to ask, and didn't begrudge her some space when she needed it. "I just need you to know that I'm ok."

"He knows, love," Draco said softly from behind her.

Hermione turned, blinking up at her boyfriend as he approached and knelt down beside her. "What are you doing here?"

"I visit him every year too. I saw you leaving last year just as I arrived, so I figured I would find you here tonight," Draco explained quietly, brushing some snow from Hermione's shoulders. "I never knew about you and Potter. I didn't believe the crap Weasley spewed in the Prophet that one time, I thought it was just his usual jealousy."

"I loved him, so much," she whispered. "After the Final Battle, after we lost him…I wanted to die too. I was just lost. I never told anyone about those months we were alone. Ginny wanted to hold onto whatever pieces of him she could, and I couldn't be that cruel to her."

Draco pulled her into a hug. "So you carried it all alone?" he whispered.

"I was always carrying things, it just one more secret." Hermione closed her eyes, glad that he was here. The war had changed Draco, in more ways than she could honestly put her finger on sometimes. Getting to know him over this last year had been like spending time with a completely different person, only shadows of the boy he'd been remained.

"You've always been so bloody strong." He pressed a kiss to her curls.

"Stubborn you mean?" Hermione teased.

"That too." He chuckled and moved back, lifting his hand to stroke her cheek. Snowflakes melted on their skin as he just stared into her eyes for the longest moment. There was the strangest expression on his face, something she couldn't quite put a name to. "I came here tonight because I felt I needed to ask his permission for this, but maybe just asking you here is enough."

Hermione frowned a little. "What are you talking about?"

Draco's lips quirked up, a knowing smile on his lips as he pulled something out of his pocket. "Hermione, will you marry me?" he asked her softly, opening the ring box.

Hermione's eyes widened as she blinked at him, caught completely off guard. "But…" Her words were cut off as he placed a finger over her lips.

"I love you, and we just fit together so well now. I've been wanting to ask you for weeks, but it never felt like the right time." The hand holding the ring didn't waver, not even as snow collected on top of the stunning sapphire ring. "Do you love me?"

Hermione felt tears welling up in her eyes. "You know I do."

"Then say yes."

Hermione felt a wave of warmth hit her, almost like Harry was giving his approval from beyond the grave. "Yes."

Draco slipped the ring over her finger and leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss across her lips. "We'll come visit him together next year, if you want," he offered.

Hermione slipped her fingers in between his, and squeezed gently. "I'd like that." She let Draco help her stand and she looked down at the grave. She drew her wand and conjured a delicate wreath of white roses and holly leaves. "Happy Christmas, Harry."

"Come on, love. Let's go back to my flat and we can warm up." Draco wrapped an arm around her, and together they left the graveyard.

The snow continued to fall, erasing nearly all the evidence of the Christmas visitors, save for the white roses that somehow seemed impervious to it. They would bloom until she returned, a silent testament to a love that would never be forgotten, even if a new love had been welcomed alongside it. Somewhere, on the other side of the veil, a green-eyed wizard smiled softly.


	18. Nothing But A Smile

Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin. Prefect Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: Drinking / Word Count: 990 (not counting Author's Note)

AU – Diverges from Canon after Deathly Hallows. Assumes that Draco & Harry are in a relationship.

oOo

"Well, I never thought you had it in you, Granger," Draco said and poured two rather generous glasses of fire whiskey, and added some ice spheres to the glass.

"I can't believe I wasted three years of my life on that bastard." Hermione was sitting in Draco's office, and accepted the glass. "We were supposed to be getting married next summer, buying a house…"

"You were always worth a hundred of Weasel-bee. Honestly, I never understood the attraction," he sneered and repressed a shudder. Granger wasn't exactly what he'd call a 'friend' per se, but she was Harry's best mate and that meant he had a certain obligation to watch out for her. The papers were going to have a field day at her expense, not a new thing certainly, but it would make things harder than they had to be.

"You know, I can't even remember why I thought we'd be a good together? How pathetic is that?" She sniffled and sipped her drink, making a face at the strength of it.

"Naw, it's not pathetic, Granger." He paused as she shot him a look. "Alright, so it is a little sad that you were shagging Weasley and you can't actually remember why you got together." He chuckled. "Nimue's knickers, they should give you an Order of Merlin just for having to see his bare arse in the mornings."

Hermione nearly snorted her drink up her nose. "Malfoy!" She was unable to help the wry smile that crept over her lips though. "You're not wrong."

"I'm a Malfoy, of course I'm not wrong." He winked, trying to lighten the mood. "So, what exactly happened? I mean, I got the broad strokes along with the rest of the crowd in the Atrium, but how the hell did Weasley end up tumbling out of the Ministry floo wearing just a smile and a scorch mark on his rear?"

Hermione closed her eyes and grimaced. "I got home early today, because we finished the final draft for the judicial reform bill and Kingsley sent us all home to celebrate. I was going to make dinner and surprise Ron, but he was already there." She took a gulp of her drink, the burn of the alcohol easing the pain in her chest.

Draco shook his head. "Shit…he wasn't alone, was he?"

"No," she replied, her eyes narrowing. "Of all the slags on the planet, it HAD to be her."

"Who?"

"Pansy sodding Parkinson," Hermione spat the name out like a curse.

Draco blinked, eyes very wide. "You're kidding. I always thought Pansy had better taste than that." He raised his hands defensively as Hermione shot him an evil glare that had sent more than one wizard running for the hills. "What? I expected better from an ex-girlfriend of mine." He took a measured sip of his drink. "What happened next?"

"I whipped my wand out and started hexing the pair of them. Pansy apparated out as soon as she got a hold of her wand, and my genius of a now ex-fiancé dove into the floo. I have no idea why he shouted Ministry Atrium, but he did and I followed because I was too angry to think clearly. You heard the rest." She sighed.

Draco got up and poured her a little more whiskey into her glass. "Look, a bloke doesn't shag someone in the bed he shares with his girlfriend, unless he wants to get caught. Have things been rocky with you two lately?" Merlin, he did not get paid enough to be a bloody relationship counsellor. Harry owed him big for this.

"Yeah, ever since I accepted the promotion to Kingsley's office. I mean, I know Ron's always been a jealous sot, but he actually accused me of sleeping with Kingsley." She shook her head. "Like that was the only way I could have gotten a promotion!"

Draco blinked slowly. "Umm, Granger…your curls are sparking."

The brunette witch seemed to shake herself and the little blue flashes of power settled back down. "Sorry, it happens when I get really mad…Harry used to call it my idiot alert."

Draco chuckled. "Yeah, he would say something like that." He ran a hand through his hair. "Honestly, I think you're well quit of him. Men like that, they don't get better over time and you deserve a partner who's going to celebrate your achievements, not be threatened by them. Especially since you're probably going to take Shacklebolt's job someday." He winked at her.

Her reply was cut off when the door opened and Harry came in. He went to Hermione, pulling her into his arms as she stood to meet him.

"I'm so sorry, I heard about everything," Harry said, stroking her back and met Draco's eyes over her shoulder. "Thanks for looking after her, Draco."

"You owe me, Harry. I'll see you at home tonight. She's probably going to need a hang-over potion in the morning. I don't think she's used to drinking that much hard liquor." Draco let his expression soften looking at Harry. The things he did for that man…

"Will do. Come on, Hermione. You can stay with me and Draco for a while, until everything gets sorted out. I already went to your flat to grab you some clothes and collect Crookshanks." Harry wrapped an arm around her protectively. "Kingsley said we could use the floo in his office, so you don't have to go out past the reporters."

"Thanks Harry, and thank you, Malfoy. For the drink." She clarified, looking back at him.

"Anytime, Granger. I rather enjoy corrupting the golden Gryffindor Princess, from time to time," he drawled, playing it off as his boyfriend took Granger away. Having his office back to himself, Draco took another sip of his drink and smiled. Maybe he should sent Pansy a fruit basket, she really had done the wizarding world a public service by splitting those two up.

~Fin


	19. Hard Choices

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, representing Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Short / Prompt: [First line] Tomorrow comes whether we want it to or not. / Word Count: 1523

AU – Hermione obliviates her parents much earlier than in Canon.

oOo

Tomorrow comes whether we want it to or not. Truer words had never been spoken, at least not in Hermione's mind. She'd gone to bed last night dreading today, because it would be the last day her parents would ever know that they had a daughter. It would also be the last day she would be able to hug them and tell them how much she loved them. As a sliver of light appeared at the edge of her bedroom curtains, a solitary tear slipped down her cheek. A new day always dawned, no matter the insignificant hopes and fears of mere mortals. Unbidden, her mind was drawn to the path that had brought her to this long dreaded dawn.

The moment Harry had appeared on the pitch, clutching the Triwizard Cup and Cedric's lifeless body, she'd known that her time with her family was over. Hermione knew what the Death Eaters had done to the families of muggle-born witches and wizards in the first Wizarding War. It wasn't in the more mainstream books about the war, but she'd found the articles in Hogwart's archive of Daily Prophet editions and in some of the darker history texts. They'd been favourite targets for Death Eater raids and initiations, and they had never been clean deaths. The descriptions of the condition of the victims still gave her nightmares.

She only had a limited window to get her family out of Britain, before they were hunted down. The day after the Tournament, Hermione had gone into full on planning mode. With Rita Skeeter buzzing around inside the glass jar on her desk, she'd colour coded a plan to ensure her family's safety and security. It broke her heart, but watching them being tortured and killed would be even worse. By the time they boarded the Hogwarts Express back to London, Hermione had a comprehensive blue-print to save her parents from a homicidal Dark Lord and his fanatical followers.

Under the guise of needing summer reading material, Hermione had convinced her mother to drop her off at the Leaky Cauldron a few days after getting home. She used the day to run the most important errands of her plan. First, she'd made her way to Gringott's to open an account for herself. Losing her parents now meant that she needed to have her own money to support herself with. Between the education fund and the money her grandmother had left her, Hermione had a tidy sum in her savings account at her parent's bank. The goblins had taken care of the transfers and hadn't turned a hair that she was only technically fifteen.

Her second stop that day had been to a questionable corner of Knockturn Alley, where she'd gotten her hands on an untraceable wand. It had cost her more than triple what her wand from Ollivander's had, but it was worth it. The clerk at Moribund's had left her with a strong urge to take a shower, but had found a wand that more than matched her. It was a different feeling to her vinewood wand, but the quivering of power under her fingertips was undeniable. With this wand, she could perform the magic required to erase herself from her parent's minds and the Ministry would be completely unaware of it. The penalty for being caught with such a wand was…well, it wasn't good, but again it was still better than having her parents murdered horribly for the simple act of having given birth to her.

Hermione sat up and bed and tried choke back the feeling of nausea that washed over her. She glared at the sunlight as it crept across her bedroom floor, hating it for the simple act of dawning. What did it hurt to wait one more day? Surely, she could take one more day before saying goodbye to them forever. A sharp shake of her head was the instant answer. No, it had to be today…because tomorrow would always come and it would hurt just as much tomorrow as it did right now. There was no sense in putting off the inevitable. Every day she delayed, was another day for the Death Eaters to come and find them. A few more tears slipped down her cheeks.

Crookshanks jumped up onto the bed, as if sensing his Mistress' need for comfort. He shoved his snub-nosed face under her chin and purred, allowing her to hold him against her chest and cry salty tears into his fur. Hermione didn't know what she'd do without the cantankerous feline, he always seemed to know when she needed him.

"It's going to be just you and me, Crooks…" she whispered to him. It was terrifying, the thought of walking away from her parents and her home, into a world of unknowns. She was only fifteen, well nearly sixteen if you counted the months she'd added to her age in third year with the time-turner, and it felt much too soon to leave her muggle life behind. "I don't know if I can do this Crookshanks, what if I make a mistake or what if everything blows over tomorrow. I can't undo this." It seemed a little silly, but there was no one else she could voice her fears to. For his part, Crookshanks just gazed into her eyes as if trying to reassure her that things would work out in the end.

Hermione took a shaky breath and nodded, it was time to get moving. She got up out of bed, and got dressed. The house was utterly silent, her parents enjoying their usual Sunday morning lie-in, and it was the perfect opportunity to enact her plan. She slipped out her new wand and walked towards her parent's bedroom, casting a simple sleeping charm. Inside the bedroom, her parents were sleeping soundly. Their faces were relaxed and free of the worries of the waking world, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

Hermione focused herself and cast the modified oblivation charm on her father first. The modified charm would remove all memories pertaining to her, and rework their lives and experiences as they might have happened without a daughter. She added a compulsion to leave Britain as soon as possible, relocating possibly to Australia or Spain. Tears were falling freely down her face as she repeated the procedure on her mother, unable to help the sobs that escaped her lips as she finished. The hardest part was done and while they slept, Hermione would do a full sweep of the house and remove all traces of her existence.

She started in the storage room, packing away all traces of her life. She'd bought a bag in Knockturn Alley, it was a pretty little beaded bag with an undetectable extension charm on it. Into the bag went every piece of her life, from baby pictures to primary school awards. All her books, toys, and drawings from childhood tucked away safely. Her bedroom was transfigured into a generic guest room, and she shrunk down her Hogwarts trunk and added it to the beaded bag. In the end, all that was left was Crookshanks and his carrier. She scooped her familiar into the carrier and headed down to the front door. She paused for a long moment, heart breaking into a thousand tiny pieces, but she made herself turn the handle and walk through the door. The sleeping charm would wear off in a few hours, and then her parents would wake up, never knowing that they had a daughter and with an intense urge to leave Britain. There was another subtle charm that she'd placed on their wedding bands that would keep anyone from asking about her in their presence. It would last for a good twelve months, more than long enough to get them out of the country.

Hermione had done everything she could to protect them. Now, all she could do was try and look after herself. She'd made arrangements for a room at the Leaky Cauldron for the rest of the summer, at least until she could meet up with Harry and Ron. Tom had given her a surprisingly modest rate, after she'd sold him a bit of a sob story about her muggle parents dying and explaining she didn't want to end up in the care system. The older wizard had been all too happy to help, after all she was a friend of Harry Potter's and a young witch needed somewhere safe to lay her head. She'd felt horrible lying to him, but it was the only way she could explain needing a place to live in the summer.

As Hermione sat in the cab that was taking her to London, her eyes were drawn to the sky. It was going to be a beautiful day. Tomorrow would be her first day alone in this world, no matter how much she wished it wasn't necessary. Just like today, tomorrow would come, as sure as the sun now rising high in the sky. No amount of wishing, praying, and crying would stop it. Nothing could ever halt the steady march of time.


	20. Left Behind

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Short / Prompt: The Shrieking Shack / Additional Requirement: Overcoming the Odds / Word Count: 1712

AU – Diverges from Canon after Ron rejoins Harry and Hermione on the Horcrux Hunt.

oOo

They'd left her. Stupid, misguided, arrogant, chauvinistic, Gryffindor…BOYS! Hermione had woken against the trunk of a tree, shivering in the cool March air. One of them had to have hit her with a sleeping spell and they'd taken off while she slept, taking everything with them. All they had left her was her wand, a share of the meager food they'd had left, a blanket, and a note written on a slightly crumpled card. Her wards had thankfully still been humming around her, but they'd taken her bag and all her belongings with them too. Damn them!

 _After the close call with the Snatchers, I can't keep putting you in danger, Hermione. Get somewhere safe and ride it out. We'll be ok, but I couldn't live with myself if anything happened to you because of me. I'm sorry. – H_

Tears filled her eyes as she shrank the blanket down and stuffed it into the book bag, trying to focus on little things to keep from breaking down into helpless sobbing. She resisted the urge to set the damn card on fire, and she put it into the bag as well. It would be impossible to try and track them, especially since they would actively avoid anywhere she knew of. Harry could be an idiot sometimes, but he wasn't actually stupid. She slammed her fist into the trunk of the tree, letting the pain redirect her sadness into anger.

They had left her, with nothing but this stupid card and now she needed to figure out what to do next. Frustratedly, Hermione raked her fingers through her dirty, tangled curls and tried to think through the haze of anger and loss. She was not going to hide and hope for the best, no…she needed to keep hunting for the Horcruxes. There were a few options for the remaining pieces, and her gut was telling her that there was one somewhere inside Hogwarts. Getting to it would be a challenge, but she was Hermione Bloody Granger, and she would find a way.

Focus found, Hermione started to sort out the main priorities. Shelter had to be her first concern, since the boys had oh so gallantly taken the tent and left her only with a blanket in freezing conditions. There was a possible place that would put her near Hogwarts and likely offer protection from the elements, but it was going to be horribly risky. Hogsmeade itself would have protections on it, that much she was fairly certain of, so she'd need to apparate a fair distance away and approach on foot. The windows and doors of the Shrieking Shack were boarded up, so she'd need to pry her way inside, and likely dismantle more than a few charms, but once inside it was unlikely most people would ever attempt to search it. Even the Hogwarts ghosts avoided the place.

The only one who might check it would be Snape. Hermione swallowed nervously just thinking about the new Headmaster of Hogwarts. So much about what had happened last June sat badly with her, it just made no sense. If he'd wanted to murder Dumbledore, he'd had more than ample opportunity to do it over the years. It would certainly have been more advantageous to kill him years ago, before Voldemort announced his return. Sweet Merlin, he'd had more than a few chances to kill Harry over the years, and time after time, he was usually the one pulling them out of danger. It just didn't make any sense, not unless Dumbledore had wanted to die. Hermione leaned back against the tree and wrapped her arms around herself, the thought chilling her right through. Harry had told her about his blackened hand, and the poison he'd drank that night. What if he was already dying? She bit her lip and shook her head, focusing on the task at hand. She could worry about the Headmaster later.

Cancelling her wards, she focused and apparated to a wooded area a few kilometers north of Hogsmeade. She cast a basic glamour on herself, to turn her hair black and add a few years to her visible age. She transfigured her coat into a hooded cloak, and headed for the edge of town where the Shrieking Shack was located. It was already growing dark when she approached the broken fence that marked the edge of the property. Making sure that no one was watching, she cast a disillusionment charm on herself and headed for one of the windows that was hidden from view of the path. A broken piece of wrought iron fence would have to make do as a pry bar. After casting a silencing charm, she got to work. The boards resisted her efforts to rip them down, but the charms on them were old and failing. They claimed their share of blood and sweat from her, but eventually Hermione was able to make a big enough opening to shimmy through. She pulled the boards back over, so they'd look undisturbed, but left them loose so she could escape through the gap if she had to.

If it was possible, it seemed even colder in here than it had been outside. Hermione huddled in the transfigured cloak and moved cautiously through the building. A few simple charms revealed no spells, other than the failing protective charms on the building itself. She carefully climbed the rickety stairs to the upper level and chose the smallest room to set up in. The broken furniture was easily repaired and she transfigured a couple of chairs into a basic bed. It was a small enough space that she should be able to keep it comfortable with a basic warming charm, or at least that was the theory.

Hermione cast basic wards on the door and then all but collapsed onto the make-shift bed. She was dog tired and just needed sleep, even as she was afraid to close her eyes. She clutched her wand tightly in her hand, and after a very long time, she drifted off.

oOo

The first thing Hermione felt as she woke, was warmth. She opened her eyes and blinked, seeing an addition to the space that had appeared while she'd been asleep. Someone had transfigured a little fireplace into the corner of the room, and bluebell flames danced in the grate. They gave off heat and light, but no smoke. The appearance of it made her cold, despite the improved temperature in the room. She got up slowly, wand held firmly in her hand and she explored the room, finding a covered basket sitting by the grate. Inside was food, a thermos, and a little piece of folded parchment.

 _Do not venture outside, you were spotted north of Hogsmeade and there are additional patrols searching for any further trace of you. I will return tonight, we have things to discuss._

Hermione frowned, easily able to identify the spikey, slanted scrawl on the paper. It had marked up her essays for years, and was the only teacher to tear her work to shreds to find the flaws and hidden issues. Snape had been here while she was asleep, and he hadn't taken her to his Master. Instead, he'd left her food and heated the room so that she wouldn't be cold. It was odd. Just maybe she was right, and things weren't the way they appeared. She was betting her life on her intuition, and it was a frightening prospect.

Actions spoke louder than words, Hermione reminded herself. She'd been asleep and if he'd wanted to hurt her, he would have done it already. Or at least, she hoped that was the case. Several rounds of charms showed that there was nothing harmful in the food, and it was a welcome break from the tinned rations they'd been living off of in the woods.

The day passed slowly, occupied only by her thoughts and the worries preying on them. She knew the boys were trying to protect her, but how many times already had they nearly been captured or killed since August? Most of the time it was her quick thinking that got them out, and now they were alone. Noble idiots, the pair of them. There was also the concern that tonight could see her captured by Snape and turned over to Voldemort. She had no illusions about what would happen to her in that scenario. The best she could hope for a swift interrogation and execution, the worst didn't bear thinking about. The chances of that happening were astronomically high and the only evidence she had for Snape still being on their side was that nagging feeling in her gut.

The sudden crack of someone apparating startled her, and she pulled her wand out of reflex, holding it steady as the Headmaster of Hogwarts entered the room. His appearance was shocking to Hermione, he look horrible actually. He'd always been pale, but he looked even worse now, and he'd clearly lost weight in the months he'd been running the school. Slowly, she began to lower her wand.

"Where are the others, Miss Granger?" he asked, not advancing any further into her space.

"I don't know…they left me behind," she said quietly, and moved back to sit on the edge of her transfigured bed.

"And so you came here?" He lifted an eyebrow. "Surely, you knew I'd be monitoring this place?"

"It was a chance I needed to take." She sighed, unable to help feeling defeated. "Was I right to risk it?" She lifted her eyes to meet his, challengingly. Never in her life had she prayed this hard for a gamble to pay off, and just this once she needed the long shot to come through.

"You were," he said simply. "May I sit? I believe we have much to discuss, you and I."

Hermione nodded, relief flooding through her. Snape was on their side, unlikely as it had seemed. She wasn't alone now, and just maybe he could help her finish part of the quest for Harry. One less Horcrux for Harry to hunt on his own, and one step closer to destroying Voldemort once and for all. Tonight, with those two words…the mountain that had seemed impossible to scale was suddenly within reach.

~Fin


	21. A Mother's Love

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: Mist / Additional Requirement: Love Conquers All / Word Count: 818

AU – Snape returns from the dead.

oOo

There was nothing, but white swirling mist for as far as Severus could see. Even the ground he was standing upon was obscured in the thick layers of white. The last thing he remembered was the smothering feeling of blood filling his lungs, robbing him of the oxygen he needed to keep breathing. Then nothing, but the never-ending expanse of mist.

"Hello!" he called, finding his throat quite intact. Was he dead? That didn't make sense, as he was fairly certain that he was going to Hell, if such a place existed, and this certainly didn't seem to be Heaven. His voice echoed back at him, as if taunting him with the knowledge that he was alone here. He started walking faster, panic spurring him on. No, it couldn't end like this, he had to save Lily's son and make certain the Dark Lord fell.

Severus wasn't sure how far he ran, the suffocating white mist pressing all around him, making him feel strangely claustrophobic despite the endless nothingness he was trapped in. Finally, he heard something other than the harsh rasp of his own breathing. There in the mist, there was a shadowy figure, the silhouette of another person. He slowed his pace, fighting an internal battle about approaching the figure. The need to know who or what it was fought valiantly against the fear of the unknown. He swallowed thickly and pressed onwards; he was not a coward. Whatever was waiting for him, he would face it.

The mist began to thin, and it revealed a tall thin woman, someone Severus had not laid eyes on in a very long time. She had black hair, with a few streaks of grey at her temples, and her eyes were black as night, just like his own.

"Mother…" he whispered, feeling his throat close up.

"My poor boy." Eileen Snape came forward and gently cupped his cheek, her bony thumb tracing his cheek bone. "What have they done to you?"

Severus closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his forehead against his mother's. She'd died when he was only sixteen, beaten to death by his drunken father. "I should have saved you." His voice cracked and broke, sorrow crashing down on him.

"No, I should have saved you." Eileen pulled back and met his eyes. "You were my son and I should have protected you. I'll never be able to tell you how sorry I am for failing to keep you safe, but perhaps now I can begin to make amends." She took his hand. "Come with me, there isn't much time."

Severus was bewildered, but nodded and allowed her to lead him back into the swirling white mist that surrounded them. He'd forgotten what she looked like, he realized with shame. His memory of her over the years twisted and confused with the recollections of childhood. She'd never been conventionally beautiful, but she'd been striking. He'd inherited her sharp features, and he realized there was little of his father in his appearance. Tobias Snape had been a heavy-set man, with rough features and an even rougher personality. He could perhaps attribute his temper to the man, but even then he wasn't entirely sure.

They came to stand by a massive archway, and Severus paused as it loomed over them, standing out in the mist. "I know this, it's the Veil."

"Yes, the barrier between life and death," Eileen whispered and looked at her son. "I've waited here a very long time for you, Severus. I may have died a senseless death, but my love for you has allowed me to linger here, hoping for the chance to make right all the wrongs of my life." She smiled softly.

"Why are we here?" Severus asked, frowning at his mother.

"Because, sometimes love is enough to defy the rules of magic and nature." She leaned up and kissed his cheek. "I do not know if I'll ever see you again, but remember that I loved you, always."

"Mother…" Severus started to say, when his mother pushed him hard into the tattered Veil. He started falling backwards, until the swirling mist swallowed his mother up and then even that began to fade.

He hit the hard ground with a grunt and a shuddering gasp clawed its way out of his throat. He was breathing, and his heart was pounding. He was alive. Severus looked around, and realized he was lying on the ground, in front of the Veil. Somehow his mother had sent him back, some strange kind of old magic that had robbed Death itself. He felt tears slip down his cheeks.

"I love you too, mother," Severus whispered, before he passed out. Later, he would puzzle out how this had happened, but for the moment he surrendered to blissful unconsciousness and the warm sensation of knowing that at least one person in his life had loved him.

~Fin


	22. Flip of a Coin

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House. Prefect Entry.

Prompts: [Trope] ...And they lived happily ever after [Character] Lily Potter (Harry's daughter) [Object] A penny

Word Count: 1080 (Not including A/N)

AU – Takes liberties with Next gen info, limited as it is.

 **oOo**

Scorpius let out a sigh of relief as he untied the restrictive cravat from around his neck and tossed it onto his dressing table. It had been a long, exhausting, and yet exhilarating day for the young Malfoy heir. He looked down at his left hand and couldn't help the silly grin that crossed his face as he looked at the gleaming platinum wedding band. Today, he had married the witch of his dreams and they were going to spend the rest of their lives together. He looked over his shoulder to where Lily was sitting at the dressing table, taking the pins out of her intricate hair style. She could have called for a house elf to assist her, but she liked doing things like this herself. She was so incredibly independent. He turned fully, resting his hip against the dresser and just watched her.

It was hard to believe that they'd ended up here, their own version of happily ever after, especially considering who their parents were. His father and hers had been bitter rivals at school, enemies during the war, and only indifferent acquaintances in the years following. Of course they were always polite when they passed one another at the Ministry, but it was clear some differences were not so easy to overcome. Scorpius knew that his friendship with Albus had softened them both a little over time. The two boys had been inseparable after their sorting into Slytherin, and forged a friendship that had even survived him falling in love with his best mate's little sister. It had been hard for Mr. Potter to remain aloof when he spent weeks every summer over at the Potter home with Al. Eventually, he'd become part of the motley crew, playing Quidditch and rough housing in the garden. When Al came to the Manor, they'd spend whole afternoons in the gardens talking about everything under the sun and experimenting with spells they had created.

He chuckled softly remembering how Al had broken his nose after catching him and Lily snogging behind the Quidditch pitch in their sixth year. Lily had then proceeded to hit her older brother with an impressive bat-bogey hex that had made Scorpius admire her all the more. No one ever got the drop on Albus, at least not without dire consequences, but his little sister was just as formidable. It was even funnier when he'd told his father, and he'd had his nose broken once at school too.

"Are you going to stand there all night, or come help me with this?" Lily looked at him through the mirror, her beautiful green eyes holding lots of mischief.

"You seemed to have everything under control," he drawled, but sauntered over and obediently began easing the multitude of bobby pins out of her hair. "How many of these things are in there?" He asked dubiously, as he added each one to the growing pile at her right hand. Surely there had to be an easier, magical way to do this?

"Oh, a few hundred at least." She smirked and reached for a little box on the table. "I got something for you," she said, turning on the vanity bench and offering him the little present.

"What's this?" It was small, almost the size of a ring box. The paper was gold and tied with a crimson ribbon, and he laughed a little as he untied it and opened the box to reveal a dented, tarnished, copper penny sitting on a bed of black velvet. "You kept this?" His expression softened and Scorpius reached out to stroke her cheek.

"Of course I kept it, that silly penny is the reason we got together." Lily leaned into his touch. "If not for winning that coin flip, I'd have ended up dancing with Frank Longbottom." She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

Scorpius laughed, remembering vividly the party this had happened at. It had been a fussy Ministry event, to celebrate the ending of the second wizarding war, and all the parents had dragged their children along. The adults seemed to find it amusing to get the children to dance together, and Amelia Clearwater had been angling to dance with him all night. He couldn't personally stand the bossy Ravenclaw, but he and Frank Longbottom had been the only two without partners. Lily had suggested a coin flip, not wanting to get her feet stomped on by her clumsy classmate. Longbottom was a good enough bloke, but he had no natural grace.

The only coin to be found had been in Mrs. Granger-Weasley's purse, and it had been a beaten up copper penny, clearly left over from her recent tour of North America. The girls had flipped, with Lily calling heads, and he'd spent the night dancing with her under the amused looks of their families. She'd looked so pretty that night, and they'd started writing to one another afterwards. He'd kept a secret from Albus, not wanting to cause trouble with his best friend, but in the end Albus had given his blessing. Well, given it after he'd broken Scorpius' nose. He'd stated more than once that Lily was more than capable of turning him into a thimble if he put a toe out of line, and Scorpius believed him.

"I may have had something to do with that," he admitted with a sly smirk.

"You…Scorpius you didn't!" She gaped at him. "You cheated?"

"Slytherin." He winked. "When I heard you call heads, I transfigured the penny to have two heads. I switched it back before Amelia could notice."

"You're horrid, you know that Scorpius Malfoy?" She scolded him, but her smile betrayed her delight.

"I am well aware of my faults, Lily Luna Malfoy." He leaned down and kissed her softly. "And if I ever forget, I'm sure you'll be there to remind me of them."

"I like how that sounds," she whispered into his lips.

"I think your father's still having trouble with the idea, honestly." Scorpius laughed.

"Actually, Gran's the one having the hardest time." Lily shook her head. "She'll get over it, eventually. It's that old Weasley/Malfoy thing."

"That's all in the past now," Scorpius whispered and stroked her cheek. "This is our happy ending, and no one's going to spoil it."

"I'll hex them if they try." Lily winked at him,

"That's my brash, little Gryffindor." He grinned and kissed her again. They would be happy, no matter what anyone thought or said.

~Fin


	23. What's an Ent?

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House. Prefect Entry.

Prompts: [Crossover with:] Lord Of The Rings [Character] Rubeus Hagrid [Action] Chasing

Word Count: 1001

oOo

"Hey! Wait fer me!" The tall, gangly boy called out as he tried to catch up to the herd of Thestrals racing along one of the open areas of the Forbidden Forest. Most days he couldn't figure out why the Headmaster was so set against them coming out here, it was dangerous at all, not if you knew what you were doing. He'd been able to see the skeletal horses since his second year, when his Da's brother had fallen off that ladder and died. It had been sad…but seeing the Thestrals was something special.

They'd led him on a merry chase, over fallen trees and along wild racing streams. There was something graceful about them as they galloped along the worn trails through the wild, ancient trees. The smell of moss and damp earth filled the air, but Hagrid was focused solely on the chase. He longed to be as fast and agile like they were, but this was the closest he'd come, chasing after them through the rain-soaked woods.

By the time he reached the clearing, the Thestrals were long gone. There was nothing left behind, but the whisper of the wind in the grass and the call of birds in the air. Hagrid sat down on a fallen log and tried to catch his breath. It wasn't that he didn't love being at Hogwarts, he truly did, but sometimes he just needed to get away from the castle. There was something about the woods and trees that called to a part of himself that he tried so hard to hide. He wasn't stupid, not like people thought, and he could hear the things they said about him when they thought no one was listening. His mother had been a Giant, and sure he was big and clumsy sometimes…but he didn't mean to be. He tried to do the right things, but sometimes it felt like the only things that understood him, were the creatures that lived in the forest. Nothing here judged him, and only here was he truly at peace.

Hagrid let out a heavy sigh, trying not to dwell on such sad things. His Da had told him to think happy thoughts, and look on the bright side whenever he could. He picked up a stone and threw it, grinning as it sailed clear across the meadow and pinged off a tall tree on the far side. It was a perfect throw, with a beautiful arch. Then suddenly, something very odd happened; the tree growled. Hagrid stood and approached carefully.

"Are you a'right? I dinnit mean ta hurt you," he apologized, realizing how strange this was…even for a magical forest. Trees didn't speak, did they? He looked up the trunk and then fell backwards as a section of the trunk changed, and there were honest to goodness eyes looking down at him. Sweet mother of Merlin!

"What…are…you?" The words came from what looked like a mouth, and they were slow and clearly carefully formed. It was as if speaking was difficult, and took so much more effort than a human could comprehend.

"Imma wizard," Hagrid said, sitting on his bum and blinking up at the tree. "What're you?"

"I am an Ent," the tree said, the trunk bending forward as it leaned down, examining the strange boy on the ground. "You don't look much like a wizard." The words came a little easier now, but still in a droning pace.

"Well I am, studying at Hogwarts'n everything," he said proudly and got up to his feet. "What's an Ent?"

"We are the shepherds of the forest," the tree explained. "I have been here for a very long time, and never seen a wizard that looked quite like you, though I suppose I've only ever known the elders of your kind…" it mused thoughtfully.

"Well…there's a whole castle full of young witches'n wizards getting their training, has no one else ever come here?" Hagrid frowned.

"These woods are dangerous and deep, young wizard. Most would not dare to tread here," the Ent said sagely and paused hearing howls on the wind. "The hour grows late, young wizard…I will see you safely to the edge of the woods." A massive branch swept down and scooped Hagrid up.

"Hey! Jus' wait a minute!" Hagrid was deposited up in the branches and then something else amazing happened, the tree seemed to uproot itself, pulling from the earth and growing legs. His eyes were incredibly wide, and he held on tightly as the tree began to walk, the whole world swaying under him. Hagrid looked down and saw massive wolves racing after them, and the tree began to run.

"Hold on, young wizard." The Ent said and it began to move with speed towards the edge of the Dark Forest, the wild wolves chasing them through the night.

For the first time in his life, Hagrid was a little afraid, but something about the tree reassured him and he knew that it would be alright. He hadn't remembered coming so far into the woods, but at long last he could see the silhouette of Hogwarts against the night sky. The sound of the wolves had faded into the night and the massive tree set him down gently in the grass down by the school's pumpkin patch.

"D'you have a name?" Hagrid asked.

"I am called Treebeard, young wizard." The Ent said after a moment of contemplation.

"My name's Hagrid."

"Goodbye, young Hagrid. Take care in the woods…I may not always be there to help you."

"I will, and thank you, Mr. Treebeard, sir," Hagrid said and waved goodbye before heading up to the school.

Professor Kettleburn didn't believe a word of it, of course, but that didn't matter a whit to the young wizard. He knew it was real and that somewhere out in the Forbidden Forest there were secrets still to be learned by those brave enough to venture in. Maybe one day he'd see Treebeard again. He hoped so.


	24. Ten Years

Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Azkaban Cell / Word Count: 715

AU- The Goblins demand their proverbial pound of flesh for the damage done to Gringotts and Hermione takes the fall for everyone.

oOo

Hermione was shaking as she walked down the long dark corridor of Azkaban prison. The thin prison robes were little protection against the pervasive cold. She could still hear the slamming of the gavel as she'd been sentenced to ten years for her theft from the Lestrange vault at Gringotts. She'd taken the fall to protect Harry and Ron from the part they'd played in it, and to help preserve the treaty with the goblins. It had been easy to be brave standing in the well-lit courtroom, but now her bravery was nowhere to be seen.

She'd been taken to a room, and given her prison robes. All her clothing, jewelry, and her wand had been confiscated, to be returned after her release. She'd been examined by a healer, and then they'd tattooed her prison number onto her neck. The Aurors had been fairly gentle with her, everyone knowing the part she'd played in defeating Voldemort, but it didn't change the fact that she was now just another prisoner here.

They stopped at an open cell, and she couldn't make herself take that last step inside. Tears welled up in her eyes and she shook her head.

"You have to go in," the Auror said firmly, and when she didn't move he placed a hand on her back and gently pushed. The heavy iron door was shut and locked behind her.

Hermione was shaking and she slid down the closed door, the realization of her fate finally hitting her. Tears spilled down her cheeks, and her pride fled enough to allow her to sob softly into her knees.

"Threw you to the wolves, did they?" A voice came from a high window on the left side of her cell.

"What do you care?" She wiped angrily at her tears.

"I don't really, just an observation. Never thought they'd pitch their precious mudblood pet in this place though. Especially not on the same block as all of us." There was amusement in his tone, and the voice was achingly familiar.

"Who are you?" she asked, frowning.

"I'm wounded, I'd thought you'd remember me. Especially after I nearly killed you, back when you were sixteen."

Hermione paled, shrinking back against the door. They'd put her in a cell next to **him.** "Dolohov…"

"The one and the same, witch," he said. "How long did they give you?"

Hermione bit her lip, thinking about just ignoring him, but just as quickly discarding it. Ten years was a long time to go without talking to someone, even someone like him. "Ten years."

"They shouldn't have given you a day, after all you did for them." After a long pause he continued, "Lucius is in the cell directly across from you, McNair is on your other side. Luckily you don't share a window with his cell, he's not the most stunning conversationalist. The Aurors come to do head counts twice a week, and meals appear twice daily. We all talk to each other to try and keep sane. It's easier now that the Dementors don't have free run of the tower, but being locked alone in a box still preys on the mind. You'll get through it."

"Why are you being nice to me? I helped put you back in here." Hermione looked suspiciously at the barred window.

"Because you could have killed me that night, and you're an eighteen year old witch who shouldn't be here. I'm a right bastard, but I'm not completely heartless."

Hermione picked herself up off the floor and went over to the narrow cot that would serve as her bed. "I couldn't have killed you while you were lying helpless."

"A tender heart just gets torn out, Granger. It's a hard lesson, but one you're going to have to learn."

Hermione looked around her, at the grey stones of her prison cell. Her tender heart had landed her here, and unless by some miracle she was released early…this would be her home for a very long time. "I think I'm starting to see that."

"Only the hard survive here. I expect once you leave, you're going to make them all regret locking you up." Dolohov sounded honestly excited by the prospect.

"Oh, I plan on it." She promised the growing dark in her cell.

~Fin


	25. Differences

**Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: [Word] Opposite / Word Count: 961**

 **AU – Takes liberties with the events during the year after the war.**

oOo

Hogwarts. It was the last place Draco wanted to be, but it was part of his Ministry mandated probation. He'd gotten off extremely lightly, considering everything. It chaffed horribly at his pride that Potter was the reason he was sitting here in the library working on his transfigurations essay, and not languishing in Azkaban with so many of the other captured Death Eaters. His mother had lied to the Dark Lord to spare the bloody Chosen One, and in return Potter had testified at both his and his father's trials. Potter hadn't been the only one to stand up and defend them, no…Granger had been there too.

Granger was a conundrum, and he wasn't ashamed to acknowledge it. On the face of it, they were complete opposites, even more diametrically opposed than he and Potter were. They were both intelligent, not that she'd ever admit he could match her in that area, but that really was where the similarities ended. There were the obvious differences of course, he was a pure-blood and she was muggleborn, and of course the Slytherin/Gryffindor dynamic that seemed to fuel the most vicious rivalries. For the real differences, you had to dig.

Draco tugged at the knot of his tie, loosening it a little as he watched the object of his thoughts at her usual study table. They were the only students left in the Library tonight, only a half-hour away from the library's closing time. Granger was very mission oriented in her thinking, and when focused on a goal she could be utterly oblivious to everything else around her. Draco tended to be a big picture thinker, and knew that no one goal was worth losing everything for. As desperately as he'd wanted to escape being marked by the Dark Lord, running wasn't worth the hell that would have been left in his wake. No, he could sacrifice his morals and desires if the situation called for it, somehow he doubted that she could. He envied her that a little, the utter certainty that she was always right. He'd never felt anything like that in his life.

Draco thrived off attention and accolades, but the more he watched the female member of the Golden Trio, the more apparent it became that she hated her newfound notoriety. She almost recoiled from the attention when it spilled over from Potter and Weasel-bee onto her, and she tried to be almost invisible even in the middle of a crowded room. He didn't know why, but something about her fame really bothered her. He'd trade her that celebrated fame for his disgraced infamy any day.

Granger had always been remarkably solitary, at ease with her own company. Given a choice, Draco hated being alone. Being alone meant facing the hard realities of his life, and just how badly he'd failed at just about everything. Maybe that was why she was so comfortable on her own, because she never failed at anything that he could see. The perfect Gryffindor Princess probably had never disappointed her parents once in her whole life. What was it like to be so bloody perfect?

Draco wanted to hate her, always had in fact, but for some reason the envy he felt had never crossed that invisible line. There had been many times that he'd hated her friends, but never her. Maybe it was because she was a witch, and his mother had always told him that even the lowest of the fairer sex deserved his respect. No, if he was painfully honest, the reason he'd never been able to hate her was because deep down he admired her. She was smart, fearless, and ruthless about getting what she wanted.

Watching her being tortured on the floor of his mother's drawing room had broken something in him. He had wanted so badly to do something, anything to help her, but his mother had kept his hand in a violent grip. In that moment, he'd hated himself for being such a disgusting coward. What made it worse, was the fact that she didn't blame him. There was no look of anger when their eyes met in the Great Hall over meals, or blame when they brushed by one another in the halls. Perhaps that was the greatest difference in their characters, she was capable of forgiveness and Draco was incapable of letting things go.

Draco let out a sigh and began to pack his things away, he hadn't written anything for a full fifteen minutes. He needed to get the witch out of his head, before she took up permanent residence there.

"You know, you can sit at the same table as me." Her voice carried in the silence of the library.

Draco nearly jumped in surprise, his cheeks flaming in embarrassment over getting caught. "I didn't think you'd even noticed I was here," he replied, fighting for composure.

She stood, gathering her bag as well. "Well I did, and have for the last three weeks." She walked over to stand in front of him.

"I didn't want to intrude." He decided to try for a little honesty, completely opposite to his usual tactics.

"You wouldn't be." She gave him a small smile. "I was thinking of grabbing some hot chocolate in the kitchens, did you want to join me?" She hesitated a little over the request, as if certain he'd refuse.

Draco decided to break the pattern and for once in his life, just do something he wanted to do without thinking about what his parents would say, or worse what his friends would think. "I'd like that, Granger."

"Good," she said and together, the unlikely pair left the library. They were a study in contrasts, and yet somehow they'd come together regardless.

~Fin


	26. Unlikely Engagement

Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Additional /Prompt: [Genre] Romance / Word Count: 1618

AU-Dramione. Set approx. 6 years after DH.

oOo

Spring. A time of rebirth and renewal, when all things were given a new beginning. The flowers were beginning to bloom, and in a month's time this part of the gardens at Malfoy Manor would be a riot of colour and fragrance. Roses, heliotropes, and various other blooms would compete for attention, but right now they were still just beginning to wake up. Draco's heart was pounding so hard he could barely hear what his girlfriend was saying. The tiny box in his pocket was occupying all his thoughts, and every possible scenario was running wild inside his head. What if she said no? What if she laughed at him? Oh sweet Merlin, what if she hexed him? He swallowed nervously.

"Draco, you haven't heard a word I've said, have you?" Hermione stopped and looked up at his face. "What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry…I just, there's something I want to talk to you about," He said, running a hand through his hair in a nervous gesture.

"Oh," She said and looked down, something clouding her face. "It's alright, you don't have to say anything. I mean I guess I knew things were going too good to last, and then there's the issue with your parents…"

Draco cut her off with a finger over her lips. "You always babble when you're nervous." He smiled softly. "I'm not breaking things off, Hermione," he reassured her and took her hand, leading her over to a bench by a bed of daffodils. "I know I can do stupid things sometimes, but I like to think I'm smart enough to realize that you're the best thing in my life."

She sat down with a little frown, looking rather perplexed by what could be bothering him then.

Draco went down to one knee and pulled the box out of his pocket. "Hermione Jean Granger, would you do me the great honour of agreeing to be my wife?" he asked, summoning his courage.

They'd started dating more than a year ago, and things had been going slowly. If Draco was really honest, he'd only asked her to dinner those first few times as a way to repair his tattered reputation and maybe to dig the knife in Weasel-bee's side a bit. What he had never expected was to enjoy spending time with her. That wasn't to say everything was sunshine and roses between them, Merlin knew they'd had some heated arguments, but they both enjoyed those tiffs. He'd never met anyone that could get under his skin like Hermione Granger, and he loved that she never hesitated to bust his balls when he screwed up. No other witch would have dared.

"You know, Granger, it's not good to leave a wizard hanging like this. You going to say yes?" he teased, and was almost instantly knocked over as she threw herself into his arms.

"Of course I'm saying yes, you utter prat." She hugged him tightly.

Draco let out the breath he'd been holding, and wrapped his arms around her tightly. "I love you, even when you're trying to smother me with your hair," he drawled and laughed as she punched his arm lightly, amusement clear in her eyes. When she moved back, he took the opportunity to slip the engagement ring onto her finger. The platinum band was set with blue diamonds, and was older than he cared to admit.

"Draco, it's beautiful," she said softly, unable to help looking at the ring.

"It's been in my family for generations." He lifted her hand and brushed a kiss over her palm. "I know you don't care about my family's history, but tradition is important to me and I want you to have this," he said softly.

"It's not that I don't care about your family, Draco…it's just that you're more than your name," she said and tugged him up to sit with her on the bench, slipped her fingers through his. "When you were just 'Malfoy' to me, I couldn't stand you. It always made me remember the horrid little boy who called me a mudblood."

"Hermione…"

"No, let me finish," she cut him off, holding up a hand. "I still remember that first date, when you asked me to join you for dinner. I thought it was going to be a horrible mistake. I only said yes because you asked me in front of everyone, and I wanted to make Ron jealous. When he left me, I felt worthless and I just wanted someone to look at me like I was special, even if it was you," she admitted and bit her bottom lip. "I didn't expect to have a nice time, or end up debating Bridget Wenlock's theories over dessert. I'd never dated anyone that had an interest in discussing the things I liked. That night, I got to see a glimpse of who Draco was, and he wasn't that spoilt little boy anymore. That night, I realized that you'd changed."

Draco smiled and leaned over, kissing her softly. "It was a relief to be on a date with someone who even knew who Wenlock was." He chuckled. "It may have escaped your notice but most of my former girlfriends were not exactly the cleverest of witches."

"Could Pansy even spell Wenlock?" Hermione was trying very hard not to burst out laughing.

"I wouldn't lay money on it." He did start laughing. "My point being, that even though we were so different, we had a lot in common. I wasn't expecting to enjoy myself either, but I'm glad that I did ask you. I might have ended up married to some vapid airhead otherwise." Now that she'd accepted, some of the weight that had been crushing him all week evaporated and he was just happy. When was the last time he'd felt like this? Draco couldn't even begin to remember.

Footsteps on the gravel path drew Draco's gaze over to where his father was standing, by the fountain. "Am I to assume that congratulations are in order?" Lucius asked after a moment of observing the happy couple.

Draco straightened a little, unable to help it. "Hermione has accepted my proposal, yes," he said, jaw tight. His father had been remarkably tight-lipped about the entire situation, and Draco wasn't sure how he was going to take this.

Lucius inclined his head. "Then I believe you and your fiancée should join your mother and me on the terrace," he said simply before turning and walking away, heading back to the House.

Draco took a deep breath and stood, offering her his arm. "Come on, we'll have to face my parents sooner or later." If it was going to be unpleasant, it was best to just get it over and done with.

"Do you think they're going to be angry?" Hermione asked, and slipped her arm through his.

"I don't know, but I don't care," he said with conviction. "I made my choice, and I'm not going to change my mind for them, or anyone else."

Hermione squeezed his arm. "I'm here with you, no matter what happens," she promised.

Draco headed them back up to the house, not saying much as he summoned his nerve. He knew that it was entirely possible that his father was going to threaten to disinherit him for this, or that his mother might 'express her disappointment', but he didn't care. Hermione was the best thing in his life, and for once he just wanted something honest and good. It was a sobering thought to imagine that he could walk away from it all for her, but he would.

They mounted the steps up onto the terrace, and Draco blinked in confusion. There was a beautiful lunch laid out, and champagne chilling on the side with four flutes waiting to be filled. His mother came over and kissed his cheek, whispering softly into his ear.

"Well done, Draco." She moved back and smiled warmly at him, before moving to brush a kiss to Hermione's cheek.

"Don't look so worried, dear. If we disapproved of Draco's relationship with you, we'd have made it known before now," Narcissa said. "Come and sit down, we have a lot to talk about, you and I." Hermione looked stunned, and was practically speechless as the older witch led her over to sit at the table.

Lucius poured the champagne and served the witches first, and then handed a flute to his son. "To the happy couple. I wish you both a long life together, filled with love and happiness. I don't know how my son managed to win your heart, but I am glad that he did. You've turned him into the wizard I always hoped he'd be."

Draco sipped the champagne, stunned into silence.

"Thank you, Mr. Malfoy," Hermione said after a moment. "But I didn't do anything, I just gave Draco the chance he needed to show everyone who he really was." She smiled over at him.

"Now we just need to convince your friends that I haven't been drugging you," Draco joked to avoid crying in front of his parents.

"I recommend a sturdy shielding charm, you know how Harry can be." Hermione smirked at her wizard, allowing him to lighten the mood.

"I suppose we should hold off on the formal announcement until you've informed them." Narcissa smiled. "Do you have plans for the afternoon, dear? We have an engagement ball to start planning."

Hermione's eyes widened and she looked over at Draco, but found no escape. Narcissa Malfoy had clearly decided to take her soon-to-be daughter-in-law under her wing, whether she wanted to be there or not. "Ball?" She gulped, and wondered just what she'd gotten herself into.

~Fin


	27. Turning Point

Written for the Houses Competition, Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Standard/ Prompt: [Spell] Silencio / Word Count: 1256

AU – Canon Divergence.

oOo

Hermione was running through the woods, the Snatchers on her heels. Any attempts to apparate were unsuccessful and she knew their options were limited. Their pursuers were getting closer, and she couldn't see Ron anymore. She gripped her wand and was about to turn, a plan formulating in her brain completely on the fly, when she was hit was stunner and everything went black.

Hermione woke, being held against a broad chest, deep in the shadows under some low bushes. Harry was nowhere to be seen and Ron was being held roughly by two Snatchers. She tried to speak but no sounds came out past her lips, and a squeezing sensation surrounded her vocal chords. She recognized the effects of a strong silencing charm, and fear started to pool in her stomach. Who was holding her? She tried to struggle, but the hands gripped her arms painfully tight.

"Do not move, you little fool." A voice hissed into her hear, too low to be recognizable.

Ron was bullshitting the Snatchers, and frantically her eyes searched for any sign of Harry. Where was he? Had they already taken him to Voldemort? Was he dead? The questions kept building, but the bloody charm holding her silent kept them from tumbling from her lips. To keep from losing her mind, she listened intently, trying to hear what they were saying to Ron.

"Who were they? The other two?" The one Snatcher questioned Ron.

"Penelope Clearwater and Dean Thomas," Ron lied, jaw tight.

"Where'd he go then…that mudblood?" the man asked, recognizing that name.

"No idea! And I wouldn't tell you if I did know!" Ron lifted his chin.

"He looks school aged, take him to Hogwarts…Snape'll sort him out." Greyback appeared. "No sign of the other two, they must have had a portkey." He growled. "Scent trail just disappears back there. Take that one away, and the rest of you report back to the Ministry." He stalked off, slamming a fist into a tree just before disapparating with a resounding crack.

Hermione watched helplessly as Ron was dragged off, the man holding her tightened his grip again as if knowing she'd want to try and save her friend. Then, with a series of cracks, Ron and all the Snatchers were gone. Tears welled up in her eyes and she was pulled out from under the bushes.

" _Finite_." The man cancelled the spell, in a voice that was frighteningly familiar. Hermione turned, and her eyes widened as she looked at Lucius Malfoy. He was in his Death Eater Robes, just minus his mask.

"Where's Harry?" she asked, trying to look braver than she felt. He was going to drag them off to Voldemort, or at least that was the safe assumption. The only flaw in that logic was the reason he'd hid her from the Snatchers.

"Draco's hiding him nearby. I didn't have time to take you there before they were on top of us. Are you injured, Miss Granger?" he asked solicitously.

"Am I injured? What do you care! You just let them take-," her tirade was cut off mid-rant as he hit her with a silencing charm again.

" _Silencio,_ " he said and arched an eyebrow. "You know, Miss Granger, when someone saves your life it is customary to say thank you, with a modicum of grace. Shall we try this again?" His lips quirked into an arrogant smirk.

Hermione's eyes were blazing as he cancelled the spell again. She want to hurl herself at him and strike that smirk off his face, but he had his wand levelled at her and she knew that she'd never get a chance. "Thank you." She managed to bite out.

"That's better. Now, are you in need of healing or are you capable of travelling the distance to your friend?" he asked again.

"I'm fine, nothing serious," she said, still eyeing him suspiciously.

"Good, let's get moving. I don't want to be here when Greyback returns for a more intensive search." He gestured for her to head in one direction. "As for why I let them take the Weasley boy, quite simply he was in far less danger than you or Potter. He's a pureblood, and not known to be with the two of you. He'll be punished for ducking school, but left mostly alone provided that he keeps his mouth shut. You or Potter would have been dead the moment the Dark Lord was called, and we can't have that, now can we?"

"Why are you helping us?" she asked.

"I will explain once we are away from here." He helped her down a steep bank and there, under an old pine tree, was Draco and an unconscious Harry. "Get ahold of Potter and we'll apparate to the safe house." Lucius told his son and he firmly gripped Hermione's upper arm.

Before she could protest, the bone-crushing sensation of apparition hit her, and then only Lord Malfoy's hand kept her from staggering to her knees. Hermione straightened and nodded to him as he released her. "Where is my wand?"

"In my keeping until we've had a conversation, and I'm certain you won't be using it on me," he said smoothly, as Draco moved back and enervated Harry.

"Hermione! Ron! What….Malfoy!" Harry almost launched himself at the younger Malfoy, and Hermione blinked in shock.

" _Incarcerous, silencio_." Lucius hit the dark-haired teen with both spells and pinched the bridge of his nose. Draco was sprawled on the ground, having tripped over a table when he'd thrown himself backwards away from Harry's attack. "Do pick yourself up, Draco."

Draco's cheeks flamed red.

"Gryffindors…not an ounce of civility," Lucius muttered. "Miss Granger, would you please sit down?" He gestured to a chair, minding his manners. "Now, we aided you in the woods in order to keep you out of the Dark Lord's hands. To be blunt, the Dark Lord's ultimate victory is looking less and less positive for my family, and so we have decided to help you. We can provide you with supplies, safe-houses, and assistance to achieve whatever objectives you've been labouring at. All I ask in return is that once the dust settles, you remember what we risked to help you. Be assured that if we are ever discovered, it will take a very long time for my wife and son to die. I am risking the lives of the people I love Mr. Potter, so before I release the silencing charm, I want you to think very carefully about what you're going to say. Nod if you understand." The older wizard's steely gaze locked onto Harry's eyes.

After a long moment, Harry nodded once. After Lucius released the spells, he carefully got up and looked over at Hermione. "Where's Ron?"

"He's been taken to Hogwarts, as a delinquent student. He'll be fine," Lucius interjected.

Harry turned and looked at him. "You're betraying _**him**_ , for me?" He looked rather dubious about that.

"No, Mr. Potter. I am betraying the Dark Lord for _**me**_ _,_ " he clarified. "Every day sees some new indignity visited on my family, and it will not continue. Always trust a Slytherin acting in their own self-interest. Now do we have a deal?"

Harry shared a long look with Hermione, and when she nodded very slightly to him, he turned back to Lucius and offered him a hand. "We have a deal."

"A wise decision. Now, we have planning to do," Lucius said, an intense look in his eyes. The tide had turned, in a new and somewhat terrifying way.

oOo


	28. I have a Problem

Written for Houses Competition, Slytherin. Prefect Entry. Category: Additional. / Prompt: [Emotion] Platonic Love/ Word Count: 690.

AU

oOo

 _Coping with mental illness_

 _Hermione wrapped her fingers around the large mug, and just let the warmth settle her whirling mind. When Harry reached over and covered her hands with his, she felt tears welling up behind her eyes and she blinked them away furiously, not able to look at him and see the disappointment she knew had to be written all over his face. She was supposed to be the one with all of her shit together._

 _"Talk to me, 'Mione. I can see you're struggling." Harry said gently, ducking his head a little to catch her gaze. "You know you can always tell me anything."_

 _"I know, I just…you have so much to worry about," she gave the excuse, no matter how weak it sounded to her ears._

 _"Hey, you're my best friend, and if I want to worry about you I will." He gave her a small smile. "Kings fire-called me and said you'd just quit, and I know how much that job meant to you. So, just tell me what's really going on. I know I'm a little thick, but I'm a good listener."_

 _Hermione swallowed and looked down into her coffee mug again. She loved Harry, not in a mushy hearts and flowers kind of way, but it was a deep friendship forged from everything they'd faced together. He was closer than a brother, and their bond was deeper than any other one in her life. Of all the people in the world, he was probably the only one who wouldn't judge her for this, who might possibly understand._

 _"I'm not doing well," she managed to say, her walls crumbling a little under the stress of having to be so strong for so long. "I'm not doing very well at all." It broke something inside her to admit it, but maybe she needed to talk about this._

 _"No matter what's going on, I'll always be here for you." Harry gently squeezed her hands, prompting her to continue._

"You know that I've always had pretty rough nightmares from the war," she started, needing to tell him. "I started taking potions to help me sleep, but eventually they stopped working. Once you develop a resistance to those potions, it's easy to overdose. So I started looking for other methods, and ended up self-medicating…with alcohol." She paused and closed her eyes. "I quit because I need to get some control back, and I can't do that and function at work too. I can't keep living like this…" She'd woken up three days ago in a flat she didn't recognize, with some man she didn't know. Thankfully, he'd been unconscious and she'd been able to slip out unseen, but she had absolutely no recollection of how she'd gotten there. She'd gotten home, and in a whirlwind thrown out all the booze and then penned her resignation. She needed to change everything if she was going to beat this, she had to. On average, she worked sixty hours a week, and then crawled into a bottle when she wasn't at the Ministry. It wasn't just alcohol she'd become addicted to. If she wanted to break her dependence on liquor, she knew that she needed to walk away from the Ministry for a while too. It made sense in her mind at least.

Harry got up, and moved over to her side of the booth and pulled her into his arms. "Hey…we'll get you through this, I promise." He whispered into her hair.

Hermione clung to him, unable to keep the tears from spilling down her face. Over the last two years she'd been pushing everyone away, just through a steady stream of excuses about being 'too busy'…but somehow, Harry was still here. "I don't know if I can do this."

"You're the strongest person I know, we'll get through this together." Harry whispered. "You would have gone with me that night, and I've never forgotten it. I'll stand with you through all of this, no matter what."

Hermione just let him hold her, and for just a few minutes she didn't have to be strong all on her own. They'd get through this, together.


	29. Plastic Wrap and Betrothal Balls

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Drabble / Prompt: Plastic Wrap / Word Count: 285

AU: EWE & Dramione

oOo

"What is this?" Draco was holding up a roll of plastic wrap and looking at it like it was some strange alien artifact. He was helping his fiancée tidy up after dinner with her muggle parents and trying very hard to take all the various muggle appliances and assorted technology in stride. Trying and failing adorably.

Hermione laughed and went over, placing a quick peck on his cheek. "It's plastic wrap. Muggles use it to cover leftover food, before putting it into the refrigerator. It keeps things from getting dried out or going off," she explained, plucking it out of his hands and covering her mother's potato salad.

"Their food goes off if it's not covered with this stuff?" Draco looked honestly almost horrified.

"Well, not immediately," Hermione said, trying not to laugh at him.

"How have muggles managed to survive?" Draco said leaning against the counter.

Hermione summoned a serious expression. "It's been a hard thing, but they managed to cling stubbornly to life despite their many disadvantages."

He raised an eyebrow. "There's no need to make fun of me, Hermione." He went over and kissed her softly. "You know I am trying here, right? Dealing with your muggle in-laws wasn't exactly covered in Hasburg's Pureblood Etiquette, you know?" he murmured into her lips.

"I do know, I just can't help it sometimes." She grinned up at him.

"You laugh now, but wait until the betrothal ball my mother is planning." He smirked at her look of abject horror.

"She promised she wouldn't…"

"She lied." Draco grinned and plucked the plastic wrap from her loose fingers and finished covering the left over pot roast. "Trust me, it'll be far more complicated than plastic wrap."


	30. Rose Croft

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: Buying a House / Word Count: 895

AU: EWE

oOo

Hermione met the wizarding realtor at the agreed upon address. Her eyes were still sore from crying, but a quick glamour would prevent anyone from knowing it. She summoned a bright smile as the man appeared. He was on the older side of middle-aged, with a bit of grey creeping into his dark hair at the temples. He nodded to her politely.

"Miss Granger, I was expecting your fiancé as well," he said.

"He was caught up on business, but he's happy to leave the decision to me," she said smoothly in turn.

"Smart man." The wizard chuckled and nodded.

Hermione just smiled as the man waved away the wards on the front gate. It was a beautiful old cottage, with rambling roses covering the south wall. The yard was a little overgrown, having been abandoned since before the beginning of the war. No one had wanted to even consider this place, certain that the tragedies that had befallen its original family would somehow transfer onto a new owner. As such the purchase price was beyond tempting and the only way she could ever afford something like this.

"As it says in the information packet, Rose Croft was the summer residence for the Selwyn family. It's layered with about 200 years of protective blood wards. For a modest fee, Gringotts is very capable of adding your family to those wards so that you'll be able to benefit from their protections. The nearest muggle village is quite a ways off, and the muggle repelling wards have kept this place very secure, even during its long vacancy. It's a shame really, it's such a pretty cottage," Mr. Dobbs commented as they walked up the stone path to the front door.

"It seems like a very pleasant place." Hermione paused, letting herself just feel the energy. It was warm, almost welcoming. She'd been to see a handful of properties and this was the first one that seemed to want her here.

"Well, come on inside and have a look. We've had a few teams come through to make sure there are no magical pests that you need to contend with, and it's been cleared by a curse breaker as well." He covered the relevant bits of information and gestured her inside.

The photographs really hadn't done the inside justice. Like many wizarding homes, the outside did not match the inside. Hermione felt a smile curve up the corners of her mouth, the first genuine smile she'd had in weeks. Her engagement might be over, but she still needed somewhere to live and going back to the Burrow was now very much out of the question. Her little beaded bag was tucked into the pocket of her robes, everything she owned again stashed safely inside of it.

"There are seven bedrooms, in addition to the master suite. The four bathrooms were modernized by the last owners before their…untimely demise. There is a small library and what books are in there are included in the sale, a study, drawing room, parlour and formal dining room. There is also a large kitchen with a small breakfast nook in it. The property comes with two House Elves, and while they were offered their freedom under the new legislation, they instead elected to remain for remuneration. They like chocolate apparently." The man chuckled. "Would you like a tour, or would you prefer to explore a bit yourself?"

"I think I'll just have a look around on my own, thank you Mr. Dobbs." She inclined her head politely and headed off into the house. It had the feel of an old Victorian Manor, with lots of rich woods and intricate mouldings. The warm feeling persisted, and she found herself discovering each room with pleasure. The study she could easily see turning into her office, and the library…oh the library. It was exactly the kind of room she could spend hours in, happily reading by the fire.

When she finally rejoined Mr. Dobbs she couldn't help the happy expression on her face.

"What did you think of the house, Miss Granger?" he asked.

"I think it's perfect, and I'm happy to sign the papers right now," she said.

"Don't you need to discuss this with your fiancé?" He looked surprised.

"Not anymore, Mr. Dobbs. Besides, the funds set aside for the purchase were entirely my own," she said. That had been a peculiarity of wizarding real estate. There were no offers, or haggling over price. The price was set, and if agreed to it was all done quite efficiently. Realizing her parents were truly lost to her after the war, Hermione had sold their London home and put the money away so that when she was ready to buy her own home, she'd have the funds available. That had been one of the many issues between her and Ron, his resentment that she'd be purchasing their home.

"Very well," He opened his briefcase and set out the papers and a pot of green ink.

Hermione took her time, looking it over and finding everything as expected, she signed her name on the purchase contract and signed the form from Gringotts to release her galleons to the estate company.

"Your deed, and the key. I hope this place is everything you want it to be." He smiled kindly.

"Thank you, Mr. Dobbs….I do believe it will."


	31. A Place of Death

Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Drabble / Prompt: War / Word Count: 303

AU – Snape Lives

oOo

So many senseless deaths. The bodies of witches, wizards, and magical creatures littered the battlefield. This castle had once been a place of safety, of learning, and under his guardianship it had become a place of death. The Aurors had tried to take him away; he hadn't even lifted his head to protest. He deserved Azkaban. The Kiss. Death. Any of it, or even all of it. Potter had sent them away, leaving him here to view the carnage that he'd had a hand in shaping. A kind of exquisite cruelty.

How many times in his dreams had he seen this? The bodies of the students he'd sworn to defend broken and bloodied. Those images had plagued him from the moment he'd killed Albus, and he'd known that it was inevitable. It was the most horrific feeling, knowing what was coming and being unable to stop it. Merlin, he felt like screaming and raging at the stars most nights. He wanted to curse them for setting such hell into motion and then not allowing them to stop it.

All because of Albus and his grand plans. He snorted in derision, only to have it catch in his throat like a sob. These were people, not chess pieces. People bled, broke, and died. There was no way to fix them, and the ones that had survived this terror would never be the same. A part of Severus wished that he had been amongst the fallen.

It's always the living that hurt the most. Perhaps, that was why he'd lived. He had always been meant to suffer, from the day he was born until the day the fates finally released him. Now his only task was to help pick up the broken pieces and help make sure war never again came to this place.


	32. Nothing Left to Lose

Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Standard / Prompt: Violet / Word Count: 920

AU: Dystopian. Voldemort Won.

oOo

Violet. His keen eyes scanned the crowd in search of that colour. The note had been extremely specific, his contact would be a witch wearing violet robes and she'd be by Flourish & Blotts just after noon. His fingers drummed impatiently on the wood railing of the balcony he was currently standing on. This level of subterfuge was lamentable, but necessary. In the current climate, discretion was key. Anyone even suspected of helping the Underground were carted off without trial or due process. It made helping the struggling few members of the resistance so much more dangerous than it had been in the beginning. As order descended on Wizarding Britain, anomalies were easier to spot.

A flash of rich violet cloth caught his eye and he hurried down the wooden steps, falling into step behind the witch. Whoever she really was, this was most likely a glamour or even polyjuice potion. None of the resistance members would be foolish enough to come out into the open.

"Excuse me, Miss…I believe you dropped this." He called out, prompting the young woman to turn.

"Oh thank you, how kind." She smiled and accepted the parcel he handed her.

"Happy to be of service." He inclined his head and watched her disappear into the crowd, the vibrant violet of her robes swallowed by a world that was dominanted by darkness and muted tones. He turned sharply and disapparated home.

The looming gates of Malfoy Manor felt more sinister than they used to, as if the entire property had been tainted by their servitude to the Dark Lord. A Dark Lord that was now the undisputed ruler of the British Isles. After Potter had died, all opposition had been slowly stamped out. The Underground was the last bastion of hope for those who still prayed that something would save them from this waking nightmare. Sometimes he wondered if the girl was still alive, if she was the one holding it together through sheer force of will and abject desperation.

"Lucius? Ah, you've returned." Narcissa said, a vague look of disappointment on her face at his safe return.

Each act of humiliation heaped upon them by the Dark Lord had soured his marriage ever further. Only their mutual devotion to their son bound them now. A son that was rarely even here in the country. At least Draco was safe. Small comforts, but he'd take them all the same.

"Yes, if I am needed I will be in my study." He said in passing. Why, he didn't know. No one ever needed him anymore.

The heavy oak doors of his study closed behind him and on a whim, he charmed the roses on the mantel to the same shade of violet that the witch's cloak had been. Inside the package had been a bag with an undetectable extension charm on it. He'd filled it with healing potions, food, and other general supplies. Everything he could think of to assist them. It was a feeble hope to imagine that the rag-tag group would ever be able to alter the trajectory of their current history, but some hope was better than none at all.

He had added one more thing to the bag. It had been reckless, but his life meant so little to him these days that perhaps a little reckless was what he needed. He'd enchanted a pair of mirrors to allow communication. It would hopefully let him keep them supplied with things they really needed, and not just leave him guessing blindly when he made the drops.

The little mirror in his pocket pulsed and he pulled it out. It had been her today in Diagon Alley. There, sitting in the same violet robes from earlier, was Hermione Granger herself. She was the most wanted person possibly in the entire magical world. The Dark Lord called her a traitor to her kind, when he wasn't calling her nothing but a magic stealing muggle. The years had been hard on her, and clearly food had been a safe bet for what they needed. She looked to be a good two stones underweight.

"Miss Granger, its been some time." He said, sitting down in his favourite chair and looking at the woman in his mirror.

"Yes, it has." She said. "You wanted to speak with me?"

"I wished to offer you aide. I can pass you information, supplies, and whatever else you might require." Lucius said.

"Why would you help us?"

"Because, a man should try and do at least one good, decent thing in their life. Don't you agree?" He asked.

"I'm sure you've done more than one." There was a great sadness in her face. "We need your help, more than I'd care to admit."

"Then take it, Miss Granger. Perhaps, together we can set things to rights again." Lucius found himself actually admiring the young woman. Violet really was her colour, and there was an intensity that he found incredibly drawing. "Whatever you require, I will try to provide. In return…should be succeed…I would ask that you spare my son. Do with me and my wife what you will, but Draco was never to blame for what happened."

"That much I can agree to." Hermione nodded

"Then lets get to work shall we? We have an insane despot to depose. Oh and Miss Granger, you do look quite fetching in that colour." Lucius was pleased to see an answering smile on the woman's lips. Perhaps a little hope could go a long way.


	33. Family

A/N: Written for the Houses Competition. Slytherin House. Prefect Entry. Category: Additional / Prompt: A Birthday / Word Count: 1108

AU: Challenged to write a Harmony. EWE

oOo

"Do you have the balloons?" Ginny's head popped up from behind the massive birthday cake.

"Yes, and the streamers, the party poppers, the horns, even those silly little hats," Hermione said, rattling off the list as she sat the bags down. "You don't think you're going a little teensy bit overboard? The cake is bigger than Teddy."

"Don't be ridiculous! This has to be the best birthday party ever! A kid only turns one once." Ginny pointed the icing spatula at Hermione to emphasize her words. The smudge of red butter cream on her cheek kind of killed the intimidation factor.

"He's not even going to remember it." Hermione chuckled a little.

"But we will, and then we'll have pictures to embarrass him with at his wedding, when he's all grown up." The red-head winked.

"Ok, ok…you win." Hermione laughed and pulled her wand out, using it to start distributing the decorations around the room. She'd been press-ganged into helping get everything ready, while Harry and Andromeda took Teddy to the park. Harry was really throwing himself headlong into the whole God-father thing, and Hermione was really proud of him. It was a big first step into becoming an adult, and she hoped that it gave him the courage to make some other big steps.

"So, do you think Harry will ask me to the Victory Gala next month?" Ginny asked as she put the finishing touches on the cake.

"I have no idea. You know his brain is a mystery to most sensible witches," Hermione hedged a little, trying very hard to not give anything away through her expressions. Harry and Ginny had never officially gotten back together after the war, and it was not a lack of hints being lobbed at him by the determined youngest Weasley.

"Come on Hermione, you're his best friend and we both know he'd never talk to Ron about it." Ginny pouted.

"I…I think maybe you're putting your efforts into the wrong wizard." Hermione was almost certain that it was the exact wrong thing to say, but Nimue's knickers, someone had to.

"Excuse me? We're perfect for one another." The tension in the room ratcheted up a notch as Ginny leveled an intense look on Hermione.

"Just because you're well-suited, doesn't mean that it's going to work out." She tried to be tactful about it.

"Is he seeing someone else?"

"I don't think he's actually looking for a relationship right now." Hermione prayed that would be enough. It wasn't exactly a lie. "He's still having a pretty rough time." He was the only one either. "But hey, it's Teddy's day, so let's just try and have some fun embarrassing the munchkin ok?"

"I suppose," Ginny said and gave Hermione one last suspicious look, before returning to slathering icing on the giant quaffle cake.

Crisis averted, Hermione finished getting all the decorations up and then escaped out to the garden to help Molly get the refreshments ready. That had been close.

oOo

Harry walked through the garden gate of the Burrow, his Godson perched on his hip and snuggling his favourite stuffed toy. It was a little black wolf, and Teddy was almost never without it. Spending time with Teddy made his day brighter. Andromeda was trailing behind them, still somewhat apprehensive about being surrounded by so many Gryffindors, but understanding that this was Harry's family.

Teddy saw all the bright coloured decorations set up outside and started to wiggle.

"Down!" He looked up at Harry plaintively.

"Ok kiddo," Harry set him down, and watched him motor forward. The kid was really steady on his feet these days, and he wondered how Andromeda kept up with him. He stayed right behind him, just in case he tripped. The last thing he wanted was tears on Teddy's birthday.

As Harry took Teddy's hand and led him inside, the toddler's eyes were wide as saucers taking in the balloons, streamers, and bright glittering decorations. He wanted Teddy to have everything that he hadn't as a child. He wanted him to have presents on his birthday, and a stocking full of wonderful things at Christmas. Most of all, he wanted him to be loved and cared for.

Hermione came out from the kitchen and knelt down, hugging Teddy. "Happy Birthday!" She smiled, not minding when he tugged on her messy curls.

"You and Ginny did a great job, 'Mione. It looks amazing." He let her see in his eyes just how much it meant to him. He and Hermione had been seeing each other secretly for weeks now, not wanting to share their relationship with anyone just yet.

"It had to be perfect for Teddy, didn't it?" She smiled down at the little boy.

"Want." He reached for one of the yellow balloons.

Hermione laughed and summoned it down from the ceiling. "Here you go, Teddy."

The little boy made a sound of delight, tugging on the ribbon and watching as the balloon danced over his head.

"I think he'll enjoy that more than any of the toys I know you've all spoiled him with." Andromeda smiled, coming to join them with a glass of lemonade.

"Probably." Hermione stood and nodded respectfully to the older witch. "I'm glad you decided to come."

"Well, you're all Harry's family…and maybe it's time to start letting go of the past." The woman's face softened a little as she watched Harry playing on the floor with her grandson. "He's so good with him."

"He really is," Hermione agreed, her own smile softening.

"When are you both going to tell everyone?" Andromeda asked with a knowing look.

"How?" She blushed and looked around nervously, grateful that everyone else seemed preoccupied with cooing over Harry and Teddy.

"I may be old, my dear, but I remember what love looks like." She chuckled. "You'll be good for him; he needs someone sensible and grounded. When you're ready, you'll find me firmly in your corner."

"Thank you," she said sincerely. Hermione sipped her own drink and tried to compose herself. "Is it strange to want to keep it to ourselves for a while?" she asked.

"No. Love is precious, Hermione. Guard it like a dragon does its hoard, and don't ever let it go." Andromeda smiled warmly. "We only ever get that lucky once."

Hermione smiled and let her eyes drift back to Harry, now lifting Teddy up like he was flying. Soon they'd all sing Happy Birthday, and help the toddler blow out his first birthday candles. Right now Hermione was happy to just watch Harry with his godson, and imagine him holding a child of theirs like that one day.


End file.
